Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 129110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
What did Asher say his was? Tiny? Tiny. I chuckle, because he’s anything but.
"Uh, hi. Tiny, right?"
God it's weird calling him that.
"Yeah." He flashes a friendly smile. “Did you want to go in?” He motions to the door but I hesitate.
“Oh, I dunno-"
"He'd probably want you to."
"Oh, um," I swallow. "Okay then."
He slowly turns the handle and I slide into the back. A few people look up as I sink into the nearest chair.
It's apparent Asher is pleased to see me. Luckily he quickly looks away.
He's at a long table up front with Mona on one side and two people I don't recognize on the other.
Our eyes meet again and he briefly smiles.
He's wary.
So am I.
Mona catches the exchange and scowls.
Crap.
The press is sitting in neatly lined rows, trying to get their questions in. Nothing is exclusive.
Asher both dodges and answers questions about tonight’s show, his upcoming album, the tour, the second and third Sunbitten movies, Sabrina Wilson, and even if he wears boxers or briefs.
Briefs.
Mona eventually ends things with an unnatural abruption. She plays the bad guy with precision.
Asher stands and thanks everyone before being ushered out of the room. Extra security guards arrive to ensure the press promptly departs. Then Tiny appears.
"I'll take you to him."
I nod, following him back to that cozy room we were in earlier.
This time there are a bunch of girls waiting outside. Two additional security men guard the door. Tiny greets the guards and I close my eyes to ignore the groans when I'm the only one let through.
The door shuts behind me and smack. Literally. I slam right into Asher's chest.
"You gotta stop doing that," he mumbles.
"Sorry," I massage my arm.
“Shite, you really have no coordination,” he steadies me. “You okay?"
"Yeah."
"So what happened in there, no questions from you?”
“Oh," I roll my eyes. "My magazine wasn’t invited. Apparently you’re too good for us.”
“Really?” his face falls.
“Yeah,” I pause. “You really have no idea what goes on, do you?”
“I guess not,” he shrugs. "So how did I do?"
"Fine," I shrug.
"Fine," he bursts out laughing, like no one has ever said that to him before.
He seems amused.
I'm not in the mood for games though.
"Look, Asher-"
"You're upset," he raises an eyebrow. "Yet it looked like you enjoyed sound check."
I cross my arms. "I thought you weren't here so I could live out some teenage fantasy?"
"Oh so you admit this is a teenage fantasy of yours?"
I shake my head, hiding my smile.
His is obvious.
"Asher," I groan, throwing my head back.
"I wanna talk," he sighs. "Were you really just gonna leave?"
I hesitate.
"I don’t know how to play this game."
"Game?"
"All the girls - the NDA."
"Hey, hey," he bends down to my level. "Screw the NDA."
"And the girls? Your pick just outside that door."
Immediately I hate that I said that. Now I sound just as pitiful as I feel.
"I mean..." he flashes a teasing smile, but when he see's that I'm not in the mood he straightens his stance. "Sorry."
"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"
"Hey... friends, right?" he cocks his head to the side.
"Yeah," I nod. "Friends."
Yet our stare says not friends. Not at all.
"So we're good?"
I nod. "Can I ask you something?"
"Is it going to end with you hijacking my phone again?"
I give him a look.
"Fine," he rolls his eyes, "yes, I'll marry you if I have to."
"Asher, I'm not kidding around!"
He chuckles, and I follow him over to the couch.
"Okay, what?"
"Did you always want to sing?"
"Yeah," he offers a curious look. He wasn't expecting me to ask that. "Was my new stuff bad or something?"
"What's that like? To know exactly what you want?"
"Shit, Elle," he pinches the top of his nose. "You're not clueless. You just gotta get that through your head. Why did you get into writing in the first place?"
"Technically I edit, and I do that because I like to catch mistakes."
"So you're a little shit."
"That's not funny," I shove his shoulder.
"You read. I know you read."
"I like the escape."
"And the magazine?"
"Irrelevant."
He bites his lip and nods.
I'll never come out and say I wanted to work there for a chance to meet him.
"Think of what you enjoy and-"
"Oh!" I laugh, as a lightbulb clicks on in my head.
"Wait, what?"
"I get it now, why you like me."
"I think you have no idea why I like you."
"No, no," I sit forward. "It makes sense. Hear me out."
He's unsure, and maybe a little scared.
I continue anyway. "I think we both like to pretend. Like you with acting. You said you got that role because of who you are, but I think you accepted it because you hated where you were. I live in a fantasy world. I work at a magazine that sells things that could never be real - I read books about places I could go and pretend things are different."
I was obsessed with you for so long because my life sucked.