Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
The dog tugs on his leash as someone walks by. They stop to pet him for a moment before moving on.
“I don’t think Shiloh has ever been tired in his life.”
The dog’s name sticks on her tongue like she’s embarrassed about it, and it takes me until this moment to realize why.
“Oh my God, he’s named after my dog in As We Grow, isn’t he?”
Leila blushes. “I was hoping you wouldn’t realize that!”
“Sorry, but I did. I think that’s adorable. You were a really big fan.”
“Maybe I just liked the name Shiloh.”
“Or maybe you just liked me.”
She sputters something like, “that’s not true”, but the words are jumbled.
“I’m just teasing you.”
“You’re a jerk!” she says playfully. “Maybe I should change the dog’s name.”
I pet Shiloh right between his floppy ears. “Don’t do that. He looks like a Shiloh. Though if I remember correctly, my dog in that show was a collie or something, not a retriever.”
“Good memory. See, proof that I wasn’t just copying the show. It’s a great name for a dog.”
“Whatever you say.”
We stare at each other with goofy smiles on our faces. It’s been a long time since I could just talk to a human being without them expecting more from me. I don’t get the vibe that Leila will ask me for anything more than a fun conversation and maybe more love for her excitable dog.
Most conversations I have exist only for the end goal. I’m supposed to convince them to give me a part in a movie, let me come to a party with a bunch of producers, or get me a spot on a talk show that wouldn’t consider me otherwise. My agent says every conversation has to have a purpose, and that’s exhausting. Sometimes I want to talk to someone simply for the sake of talking.
Another gust of warm wind blows a strand of Leila’s hair into her face, plastering it to her cheek. Before she has a chance, I use my fingers to brush it away, the same electric tingling coursing through my body as I touch her skin.
A shuffling in the trees beside us ruins the moment. Shiloh gets excited, expecting a squirrel or another creature he can chase after. Leila tightens her grip on his leash to make sure he doesn’t get away again.
Instead of a treat for Shiloh, a camera starts flashing, destroying the moment for good.
“I’m so sorry about this, Leila,” I say.
“What the hell?”
“Paparazzi.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh, I thought this only happened in movies!”
“I have to go. It was nice meeting you!”
“You, too!”
I give Shiloh one last pet and take off for a run through the park. It’s pointless to try and escape the paparazzi now they know where I am, but I’m going to try.
I only wish I’d gotten Leila’s number before I had to disappear. She seems like a nice girl, one I’d like to see again. In a city like LA, there’s no way I’ll find her again by accident.
I get in a cab at the far end of the park and give him my address. I’m sure the camera guys will follow us, trying to get another story on a washed-up child star, but they already know my address. No point in hiding.
This is the life I chose, and as annoying as it gets, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Chapter Three – Leila
I put my purse down in my cubicle in the tiny Los Angeles office of Frills, the interior design company I work for. Back home, we had two floors of a building to accommodate everyone. Here, there are only two of us in the office. Clementine, a local woman, hired to get things started, and I, sent here to bring the essence of Frills East to Frills West.
I have a huge smile as I boot up my work laptop. I can’t believe I met Spencer James yesterday! Everyone said I was bound to run into a celebrity eventually, but who would’ve thought it’d be the guy I had a wicked crush on as a kid?
Spencer still looks as hot as he did before, if not a little more ragged. The paparazzi photos don’t do him justice. Even with today’s high-res cameras, they always come out blurry or grainy, probably because of the commotion. Real-life Spencer is way hotter than the magazines make him seem.
I curse myself for not asking for his autograph or a picture. I mean, he did say he was glad I wasn’t fangirling over him, but it took everything in me to hold back a girlish scream. Spencer James! It’s not every day you get to meet your oldest celebrity crush. I ruined it by not having anything to remember him by but the picture in my head.
The Spencer I met doesn’t match what I’ve read about him lately. He played off the club fights like they were never his fault, and I genuinely believe him. He seems like a nice guy.