I watched my polished nails quiver against the steering wheel, completely in sync to my tensed consciousness. My mind raced intensely in the process of my surveillance on Ian's house. As soon as my head turned to note the lavish but empty Buggati parked beside me, I knew that car meant bad news. Not even the entire cast of the show could chip in enough money to buy a car that upscale, which meant it could only belong to one person in associations to Ian.

Amanda.

Thereupon, the happenings of my next actions went adrift. I didn't know if barging in or sneaking in to catch them in some act was the best option. I even considered driving away as an option, but too much would weigh on me if I didn't know what was going on. On top of that, if Amanda's lie was going to be exposed to him, the best time to do it was right then, in front of the she-devil.

My legs, which were like complete jelly, wouldn't allow me to exit my car without something— like, some sort of confirmation. The concept of Amanda and Ian found in bed together after our argument found itself to play out in the front of my mind. It wasn't something that seemed to be possible from a normal standpoint, but I never knew what Amanda had up her sleeve. She was very conniving, and it wouldn't surprise me too much if she took Ian back under her wing. They did sleep together, presumably more than once. He must have found something about her that drew him in, that compelled him to make love to a woman he had only known for a few months.

Or, he might have been just doing what guys did— giving in to desires.

Get out, I weakly persuaded as I opened the door, pushing my limped legs out the car door. I got a good peek at the house and I might had even seen a silhouette passing the living room window with a very voluptuous figure. Before I was completely able to comprehend what I was doing, my legs were leading me to his front door. My hand arose to the doorstep to knock, but in hesitation, it slumped down to the doorknob and charged through.

The place still smelled like Pin-Sol, due to my meticulous purification from just a couple of hours ago. Something else resided on the kitchen counter, a purse and a set of keys. When my eyes lingered on the velvet purple purse, it was relatively unnerving just how much I wanted to invade her privacy and dig up whatever type of dirt I could find on her, something that'd not only take her down, but compel her to dig her own grave. But because I knew how much my skin would crawl if the roles were reversed, I decided averting my attention to the two muffled voices from afar.

Stepping closer and closer until I was close enough to hear every single word from them and far enough so that they weren't able to see me or my sneaky shadow was my main goal, and I reigned successful. I tucked in massive tufts of my hair behind my ear in order to seize better control of their bunched up sentences.

"...kidding me? What would make me ever believe you'd do that, after everything you put that woman through."

"This baby has changed me for the better. After I went to that ultrasound, I fou—"

"Oh, you mean the ultrasound you didn't invite me to?"

A silence. And then—

"I'm sorry, Ian."

My eyes widened slightly. Even if they weren't currently on the road to becoming bed buddies once again, their conversation nerved me somewhat. I loved Ian more than many things I could think of, but when it came to gullibility, he'd chart the top ten in the entire world. He fell for every little thing, whether it'd be a childish nose tap or something like being Punk'd.

Amanda never said sorry. She never liked to say she messed up, and she especially hated saying she was wrong. What if it was only something to land a spot into Ian's gracious vicinity? Had it not been for selfish reasons and their so called child, I'd back off promptly and allow them to rehash things out as two grownups living separately and in a platonic manner for the sake of the baby.

But this wasn't the case, not even in the least bit. She was used to getting what she wanted, and if she couldn't use the simple necessity of her words, she'd resort to money and her looks. And if slapping a check for five grand onto a table and bending down on her knees didn't work, she'd go to her next resort— lying. And now that I had her weakness sheathed in my palm perspiration, I could break down her next alternative choice.

Gathering up all the determination and backbone I had summed in me, my left foot stepped forward leisurely and my right foot followed along like a turtle. I couldn't steady the increasing tempo of my heartbeat as they turned their heads synchronously to take in of my presence, nor could I halt myself from taking those final strides towards Ian to pass him all of the evidence.

"Don't believe her," I instructed softly, trying to find a source in his eyes as he accepted the two papers and gradually captured them in his firm hands. "Everything she tells you is a complete lie, I promise you. Here is the real truth."

As Amanda took a few steps closer, her chaste visage vanished into thin air, and the true demanding woman stepped in place. Her hand slipped away from the giant baby bump as she prowled our way. "What is that? Fail, what is that?"

"It's Hale," I corrected angrily. I knew she was only trying to get the worst out of me, but it was enough for me to argue back and allow her to provoke me if it'd give Ian enough time to process through what he was looking at without Amanda attempting to charge at them like an untamed, barbaric beast. Involuntarily, I took in a swallow of air and enunciated, "Lucy Hale. As in, the person you've been terrorizing for months; the person you want banished from the Hollywood limelight. If framing me for drug use and using my pregnant best friend to jumble me in the mix of your things is your way of getting me out of here, you've got another thing coming. I'm here, and I'm here for good, whether you like it or not."

Decaying my eminence would do me no good, and I'd assume it wouldn't do Amanda any good as well with the reputation of the world's evil queen bee, but there was something so charming and alluring enough about her that she could possibly have thrice the amount of supporters (not to mention social media followers) as I did and she could have ninety four percent of what she wanted on the earth. She was the Regina George of show biz.

I noted the review that glazed her eyes, which appeared only for a second. It was the same deadly look that glared at me during her trip to pushing me off the ledge of that rooftop, the look she gave me when I rightfully intruded that wedding, and the look she pushed my way whenever I spoke nothing but the truth about her. It was there, I saw it; and that's how I guaranteed all falsity of her words of apology.

"What the fuck is this?" Ian practically snarled as his head arose. An angry fire, like an inferno, lit his eyes immensely, causing the golden amber flakes around his pupils to become visible and dance around like a group circle. He turned beyond furious because it made sense to him, all without explaining.

But his next demand caught me by surprise. "Pull it up."

Amanda's eyebrows shifted. "Um, what?"

I watched Ian take a menacing, theatrical step towards the woman. Her face didn't flinch once, but instead, continued to finalize her touches to her false confused face by tying in a pouty face. The papers fell from his hand, and whether it was intentionally or not, I couldn't tell. All I knew was the deep hatred that focused on the sole person he glared at.

"I'm telling you calmly; pull up your shirt."

"Yeah, Amanda," I jumped in, eyeing her large bump before looking back at her. "I wanna see what's underneath. What have you been using, a balloon? A pillow?"

She didn't give up the facade, insisting that her lies were everything that they weren't. "Are you calling my baby fake? Wait, no. Are you calling our baby fake? How fucking dare you? I'm ready to give up my career and you're going to insult—"

She was never able to finish her sentence. Alternatively, a gasp emanated from her lips as I brashly pulled her maternity top in a fist. A gigantic cushion of grey padding was unveiled, secured with multiple strips of softened Velcro. In spite of my knowledge, my eyes still widened at seeing what she had been hiding for months.

As she harshly took a strike with her hand against my arm, her eyes diffused with passionate rage, and as her words of her right of privacy went hazy in my mind whilst she pulled her shirt back down, all I could hear was the occasional croaks coming from behind me.

I looked back to examine Ian, who didn't seem to be in the best shape, which startled me. Every negative emotion transitioned onto his face, from angry to perplexed to saddened. His glazed eyes ran circles before they rested solely on one person.

"Get the hell out," he demanded.

"Gladly," she stated promptly before turning on her heel and skyrocketing through the room, leaving an eerie silence adrift in the house.

My eyes never left Ian, but only to blink. His Adam's Apple bobbed tremendously and his hands subtly convulsed. I couldn't imagine what was going through his mind, nor did I truly want to. To know that his child was merely a figure of her imagination for her colluding ways was like a gut to the stomach. Maybe even like losing your own child without even knowing who they were.

"That's why she never wanted me to let me feel her belly, why she never let me come to her OBGYN appointments— she was never pregnant," Ian finally uttered, swallowing brutally. He finally acknowledged my presence, meeting my gawking stare of concern. My heart broke for him.

"I'm so sorry, Ian."

I stepped towards him cautiously, keeping consistency in eye contact. I was horrifically terrible when it came to knowing just the right thing to do and say, so I kept my distance and allowed him to take a moment by himself, unsure of whether reaching out to him for a hug or walking out the door was the best choice. He appeared to be very temperamental, like a ticking time bomb ready to explode, and it was most definitely a feature of him I hadn't been acquainted to just yet. In all honesty, it was a bit nerve-wracking.

"Do you... do you want me to leave?" I offered compassionately. "I can give you some alone time and you can call me whenever... or not call me if you don't feel like it. No pressure or insisting or anything like that."

My mindless ranting was completely out of control, but what else did I have to offer? I'd bet he was still upset with me and the Joel situation. He made it quite clear when he left my place. Maybe he was beginning to see just what I unleashed on his life just by being in associations with this Hollywood psycho and our time to end was coming sooner than I expected.

Everything was going so perfectly. We were just getting adjusted to our clandestine relationship and I was hitting my high on the road to success with this album, but then it all just had to come crashing down.

I must have been too absorbed in my thoughts to notice Ian's shift in weight. He took a few steps closer and bundled me into him like a blanket. My reciprocation came right after as my petite hands rested on his back, shaking nervously. Something wet hit my slightly bare back. I knew that it was his tears and by hugging him tighter, I wanted to show him that I'd be there for him every step of the way.

"This is, what, our third home date of the week?" I questioned as I watched Ian's fails of attempting to use chopsticks to eat the bowl of noodles cupped in his palm. His eyebrows were knitted in concentration when he decided to go for what seemed like the millionth time, and after failing once again, I could see his lost internal battle as his face softened and looked back up at me from across the couch.

"Hey, you're the one that came over without notice," he reminded, raising an eyebrow. I took the opportunity to neatly spin a bundle of my noodles and place it near the entrance of his mouth, in which he gladly accepted. After chewing and swallowing, he added, "Why noodles?"

I shrugged, not exactly sure why I decided to stop at a convenience shop to pick up three packs of Japanese noodles (one for me and two for him; he'd get quite hungry after long days of shooting and only refreshments of apple pie in a cup and lemonade to refresh him) but decided to use the 'I was in the mood' excuse.

"You see, we could have gone to that really nice restaurant you really liked," Ian revised.

As I created my second spiral of the curly meal to feed to the grown man, I responded with a knowing look. He knew exactly why we couldn't have gone. The pap was still hot on the love triangle train, and until those rumors died down or Amanda addressed them respectfully and with a manner that implied she was okay with what we had (which would occur in billions of light years from now), Mario couldn't give us the okay.

"It's been months," Ian expressed fretfully. "What, five months now, right?"

"Six," I corrected after licking my lips, even though it did no good in defending my standpoint. "But, still. He's an expert in what he does. He used to rep for some of the biggest stars and he still does, and I have to trust that this is what needs to be done in order for our names not to be dragged in the mud."

"Yeah, Amanda's mud," he commented grudgingly. I gave him a sympathetic look as he seemed to be getting whisked away into the recollections of Amanda.

It had been around a week since we caught her in the lie. One week for Ian to completely soak in that he wasn't going to be a father. And after all the anger and resentment finally faded away, he seemed to be relieved. He admitted that he really wasn't ready for this and that it felt like being hit by a tsunami, but he didn't want to abandon what was his. His animosity for Amanda grew intensely and the room for gullibility when it came to her sweet talks decreased in size.

With Amanda taking her insults to social media, our margin for error to be seen with each other in public and unrelated to work was too small to even look at. It only took a snap of a camera button to ruin a status.

Leaning in, I gave him a comforting kiss, tasting the appetizing droplets on his moist lips. Confronting his dispute was something that he needed to do sooner or later, but until that happened, I was going to be there to help him push through and get his mind off of life as much as I could. I knew he would do it for me if the roles were reversed.

As he kissed me back, I felt his hand scoop up the bowl out of my lap and elsewhere. The heat from my lap immediately marooned but reinstated in the feel of his lips. Soon after, that was gone too. I opened my eyes to see Ian, whom abandoned my face for a chance to scoop my noodles with my chopsticks. His plate still remained in his lap, untouched since his last tries. I scoffed, amused nonetheless. My hand outstretched to take his away, but he headbutted me away.

"No tuhing," he instructed unmannerly in between large and stuffy chews. "'M hungwy."

I gave him a look of confusion. I knew what his disorientated words meant, but that didn't mean I understood what his words conveyed. "You already had another bowl just twenty minutes ago!"

He swallowed forcefully, keeping pronounced eye contact whilst doing so. "I haven't eaten a single thing today."

I tilted my head. "Ian. You saw me watching you snag that Snickers bar out of my bag. Then you threw it down with my Starbucks drink."

"Wait, first off, I didn't even like the taste of that drink," Ian updated, which was certainly true. Besides the cream swirls at the top, I tried to limit what I ordered in regards of sugary tastes for intruders such as Ian. "And second off, that was yesterday."

"That was today!" I exclaimed, my eyes lighting up in hilarity. "Besides, I offered to give you my fortune cookie."

He gave me an ambiguous look. "Oh, really? You mean, something I'd demolish with my teeth in, like, two seconds?"

"Precisely," I answered grinning. I stood up from my crossed position and headed into the bathroom, deciding that I'd stop by the smoothie shack on a downtown corner to suffice the rest of my stomach for the evening.

Ian and I had a long night ahead of us on top of our busy morning and afternoon, due to the Wrap Press Party for the mid-finale of the season which would stretch until midnight from past experiences. Our plans were to enjoy the rest of whatever we had for dinner and then take a nap right before or after, in hopes that our energy would be restored for this formal party and our eyes wouldn't be half closed during the time the press took videos and snapped pictures. Unfortunately, set time went too ahead and deducted our intermission.

After washing my hands and rinsing my mouth out, I did my usual before party routine and skipped out, feeling refreshed of taking off my makeup but knowing fully that it'd be on again in a few minutes. I didn't hire any hair or cosmetic artists, mostly because it wasn't much of a special party and because I was at Ian's house. It would only raise suspicion.

"I'm gonna get dressed," I told him, leaning on the frame. When he gave me the thumbs up, I skipped upstairs and into the extra bedroom, where my uniquely patterned two piece laid on the bed neatly. I slipped into it, used the extra curling wand in the drawer to apply waves to my brown hair, and administered a scarce bundle of the vivacious maquillage from all that I carried in my purse.

In the time I exited the room, the light outside had lost its lustrous touch, meaning nightfall was nearing quickly. I heard movement from behind me when I reached the top of the stairs and turned my head quickly to get a glimpse of Ian in his room, staring at the tall mirror and fidgeting with the fasteners on his fleece button down, eyebrows knitted in absolute concentration. I shook my head, taking those conclusive steps into his room with grace.

"Having a hard time there, Harding?" I asked with the utmost professional tone. My eyes scanned the room through my time of sashaying his way. I caught a sighting of the digital clock in the meantime. It stated, six o'clock.

"Sorta," he affirmed, his eyes never leaving his shirt. It was the last button, closest to his neck. I pulled his hands away gently and fixed it so that the collar neck swooped out and the beginnings of his chest lingered in sight. Tufts of dark, coiled hair overtopped beautifully.

"Leave it like that," I insisted with a seducing smile. "It looks hot. I'm t—"

My phone vibrated roughly followed by the ringtone, causing me to stop in mid sentence. My hands slid off of his chest to pull my phone from out my bra and eye the caller ID. My face darkened at the name, and apparently Ian must have seen it.

"Mario? Joel?" he guessed with what seemed to be a very cool nonchalant. If I hadn't known he was a professional actor, his calm demeanor would've fooled me entirely.

"Brant," I responded truthfully. My thumb tapped the decline button and the ringtone was dismissed, leaving an uncomfortable silence in the air.

I watched him roll his tongue through his teeth and spoke softly, "I'll be in the car."

"Hold on," I caught hold of his lower arm before he could even take a step. I knew the light mood was killed off, but there were some things that needed to be put straight before we headed to this party. "Look, I know we haven't addressed the whole... you know, thing, but as long as you're willing to even put up with me, you won't have to worry about me being unfaithful."

"It isn't about you being unfaithful," he told me woefully, "because I'm sure you wouldn't cheat. I'm just worried about other guys. I know I'm obviously not the best trophy boyfriend someone could ask for, but I know that I have more heart for you than any other guy would."

I nodded, giving him the knowledge that I was listening to his words. "I understand why you'd doubt other men because most of them, unlike you, are total pigs. But I feel the same way. I know you might think I don't because of how I never bend the rules even a little like I always do, but I do."

His uncertainly gradually rolled away like a dreary cloud casted in the sky. I outstretched my arms to hug him.

"Love you, babe."

"I love you too."

"Lucy, over here!"

"Mr. Harding, can you look over here?"

"Right here, Lucy."

"Can we get you two closer together?"

The demands and orders shooting our way didn't startle me as much as it did five years ago, when I was just being recognized and heading to press shoots. Rows and rows of photographers snapped and snapped, and it was right then that I realized how much of my perspective changed of them as a whole. Before, I didn't mind them (or, tried not to mind them by being as polite and friendly as I would be to any other person) but then, after all of my experiences in the past months, they became too much to handle. They knew where I worked out, the quarries that I headed over to shop, and even the route to my set.

The hand on my back slid a little farther up, away from the mound that could be mistaken as an area too close for a friend to physically contact. I knew how hesitant Ian was during these things, even if he was uncaring of his loving holds in the privacy of our homes or whenever we were alone on set. He was doing a clear-cut job on keeping our bond seemingly platonic, even though we were much more than that.

I displayed a very light smile on my face, one that didn't reach my eyes and had more of an elusive knack to it. I always smiled brightly and innocently during things like that, but I just wasn't in the mood. I was exhausted and it was hard enough to spread a quarter of the tube of concealer beneath my eyes and on my forehead to shadow any horrific bags or dark spots that might have surfaced.

I subtly blew against the side of my face to force away the dangling curls located at the side of my face to whoosh away, but it didn't work, so I used my hand instead as we took a few steps to the right in order to grant better access for photographers on the right side of the group. More demands were shot our way, meaning more smiles.

I felt my phone pulsate in my bra for what felt like the fifth time, sending tingles through my chest. It caused me to grin and eliminate the mysterious smirk on my face.

"Nonstop vibrating," Ian commented quietly, in between his teeth.

"Mmmhm," I drew out as I kept my lips pursed firmly before another flashing smile.

We neared the end of the line and finally stepped out of the line. Ashley and Tyler were behind us in the same formation, their arms looped around each other's waist, but Ashley going a little yonder than I did by placing her hand on his upper stomach and occasionally poking him in the gut. They struck skillful poses that looked a little more than professional, but nonetheless very 'Ashley and Tyler' like.

Ian and I made our way through the crowd, saying our hi's and hello's and mingling with others while maintaining our close proximity with each other. My heart almost dropped into the pits of the earth when I saw a very familiar man standing before me. He came out of nowhere, literally. I hadn't seen him anywhere around me and now he just... stood there.

"M-Mario, hi!" I smiled, using it as a way to conceal my stammer. "What're you... what are you doing here?"

He sighed with a profusion of density and handed me stacks of ivory colored papers. I knew these too well were flipped around because of the lamination and the size. They appeared to be headshots. When I looked back up at him after a side glance at a nervous Ian, I gave him a look of perplexity, in which he nudged the files my way.

"Look."

Hesitantly, I obtained it with shaky hands and flipped them over in what seemed like an eternity. I couldn't control the deep exhale that escaped my lips when I saw what he had in store for me.

There were several amount of them, of Ian and us, in the seclusion of our porch, in what I believed to be the secrecy of our dressing rooms, all in which could be interpreted as intimate touches. We held hands in some and we even kissed deeply in some. The odd part about it was that there had to be at least twenty different scenes, none taken on the same day. I remembered Ian's blue polo he wore from right before Winter Break and the brand new shirt I bought merely a few days ago. It was apparent that Mario knew.

"I've been waiting," Mario started once my head ascended. "Just waiting to see if you would stop at one point with this. I've kept quiet and I knew that you weren't going to let go of whatever is so important in him. But then I found out that the pap knew, and I paid them to keep quiet and not to publish anything with cash offerings. And now I'm up to my elbows in debts and I can't wait any longer for you to find your mistake."

"Mario, I—"

"I truly thought you'd get a clear mind after you came back from your tour, you know that?" Mario informed. "I actually believed you'd finally clear your head and realize that this is a mistake. The choice is yours Lucy, but I'm not going to pay them to keep quiet anymore. Let things leak, let your reputation become even more soiled than it's beginning to be, and watch everything you've been working for for the past ten years to crumble. That's when I won't be able to help you anymore."

After his long berate, he shook his head and stalked off. It was when he was out of sight that I finally regained control of my speech. I looked at Ian, who turned five shades red. His face was in horror, just like mine was. I motioned him to follow me as weaved through the crowd to find a secluded area for us to talk.

"Okay, so clearly we have to be much more sneakier," I sighed. My hand shot up to my cheek, gently patting. "What if we... what if we set up a schedule and we got our friends to drive us places? Clearly the only way they could be tracking us is by our car type, but they don't know what our friends cars are unless they're complete stal—"

"Lucy," he interrupted. My thoughts were cut off along with my speech as I saw a look that didn't sit well with me.

"What?"

He bit down on his lower lip, seemingly in thought to pick and choose his words. What came next to me twisted my stomach into complex knots.

"Maybe we should consider what he's saying," he offered, jaw clenching in between pauses.

Once again, I lost the simple ability to speak, but when I could, I uttered, "What are you talking about?"

This time, he was unable to keep eye contact. Something about it didn't seem right, like he felt guilty for expressing his opinion. I hoped for him to say something like 'never mind' or 'forget it' but he repeated his exact words followed by, "I don't want to be the reason your entire career flows down the drain. Like he said, you worked too hard for this. And didn't you tell me once that Mario repped the best of the best?"

"I don't give a damn about that!" I almost screamed, more angry than I wished for it to be. "We can make this work. We can, we just have to be much more careful."

Ian didn't respond. He only persisted in sending through the grievous look. He seemed to be much more hurt by his words than I did, even if he wasn't as explicit with his emotions as I was. There was this look in his eyes that showed immense pain. I felt my eyesight being attacked with tears, comprehending his thought process. He was right, and I didn't want to believe it, but perhaps he really was.

"It'll only be until he gives us the okay," Ian assured. His hand reached out, suspended in midair, and retreated back at the side of his face. Despite our solitude, we could never be too sure of lurkers and eavesdroppers. "But for now, maybe being friends is what you need— what we need for our careers. You know I love you and I'd give you the world, but letting us go along like this would be doing the exact opposite. I'd be putting you in jeopardy. And no one would win."

"Yeah, no one but Amanda," I muttered.

"And you don't want to give her that satisfaction, right?"

I shook my head ferociously. With a sigh, I looked up at him with glazed eyes. "Right."

We stood in the serenity of our own presences, basking in what would possibly be the last time we'd be a couple in a long long time. What if he found interest in some other girl in the meanwhile? Worse— what if he actually dated them instead? We'd be off a relationship, so it wouldn't be like cheating. The scenarios flooded my mind.

I leaned in and kissed the side of his cheek, relishing the scent of his strong smelling cologne that mixed with musk. After wiping the red stain patterned with the shape of my lips, I walked away with my eyes permeated in warm, salty tears.

SNEAK PEEK:

You could lean in, my misbehaving thoughts asserted. Our faces neighbored, and the sweet smell of peppermint overwhelmed my molecules. He was so cute. So, so cute. I missed his kisses dearly, from the abrupt ones as he cut my sentences off to the sweetly chaste ones. He appeared to be just as breath taken as I was.

"Damn, Lucy," I heard a voice speak from in front of me. A figure jumped in between Ian and I and a handsome face met mine, a little too close than I wanted. "Have you seen the stuff on Twitter?"

I suppressed the sigh, saddened by the lack of contact with Ian. "Yeah, Brant. I have."

He stole a quick cheek kiss, causing me to flush. I knew Ian would hear the smack of lips.

a/n: okay, so I know you guys love fluffy lucian, but this is kind of a road i've been planning for a while and it gives them an odd dynamic to work with as friends with these emotional and sexual desires towards each other, and many times they're going to want to tap into their desires and it's all about mind over matter for a while. i promise you'll get fluffy lucian through out, even if they aren't a couple, but i can definitely say there will be tons of drama. despite the fact that school's started, i'll try to update as much as i can (hopefully once or twice a week, maybe more if the reviews are overwhelming). thank you so much for the reviews! it caused me to procrastinate from my schoolwork and get this chapter and the next chapter done. keep them coming!