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)
She gives me a look.
“Elle I respect you so I’m just going to come out and say it. I know something is going on between you and Asher Montgomery.”
My eye bulge.
My face grows hot in a mater of seconds.
My mind and heart race, overcome with a panic I didn't know I was capable of.
I search through my mind, thinking back to when or how I may have accidentally slipped.
I can’t recall a thing, but shit!
Asher will kill me!
Especially with the whole NDA thing.
He trusted me! And it's too soon for anyone to know what's going on, especially since I don’t even know what’s going on!
“Hey, hey. Easy." She puts her hands in the air, attempting to calm me.
It doesn't work.
"I’m not going to say anything."
I study her face, looking for any possible clue or indication. Maybe I can still possibly deny whatever it is that she’s insinuating. I mean it's clear I’m caught, but really, what am I even being accused of?
“Okay, yeah. Asher and I are sort of friends,” I hesitate. “I think. It's not anything really.”
"Right." She smiles a little too quickly. “First you randomly get sick,” she rolls her eyes. “I’m not dumb. Second, I was sitting fourth row - to the side.”
I give her a look.
She groans, like she can’t believe she has to explain.
“I saw you standing backstage, Elle,” she pauses, and just as I'm about to defend myself, because that means literally nothing, she stops me. “Oh, and third, someone posted this picture of you,” she holds up her phone and I lean in.
The photo is of the side of my face. I’m backstage, eating lunch at a table with Asher and Brad... and oh. Asher has his hand on my thigh.
Fucking great.
“How do you even know that’s me?” I study the picture.
Actually you can’t really tell. It’s mainly Asher and just a part of my profile.
“I know what you were wearing,” she takes the phone away. “Again, I’m not dumb.”
No she’s not.
I take a deep breath.
"It literally meant nothing."
As I say the words my heart sinks a little because there's a very real possibility that it truly did mean nothing.
"Give me a break," she rolls her eyes.
“Really. We’re just friends. It’s weird actually.”
Except we also made out, and it was amazing.
“Look I'm not gonna say anything,” she makes a gesture with her hands, crossing her heart. “I just came across the picture in an online gallery. I didn’t show it to anyone. Like I said, I only knew it was you from your outfit... but I'd be careful because people are speculating who it is on fan forums.”
I rub my forehead.
Once again, fucking great.
“Elle don't worry about it."
I slowly nod, taking a deep breath. “You’re reporting for the wrong magazine,” I laugh.
“It’s gonna be okay,” she wraps an arm around me.
I wasn't expecting the kind gesture.
"Jess is going to be so pissed when she gets back."
"Yeah," I sigh as she pats my shoulder.
Post-Asher-Make-Out, Day Three
I miss Jess. Sam is great, but she already knows too much and I feel like I’m going to combust keeping it all in.
I made out with Asher Montgomery! And I loved it. But I ran off and we haven’t talked since. Jess, what do I do?
I debate all day on if I should call her. I type out a few texts and even an email, but ultimately don't send any of them. I don’t want to spoil her trip of a lifetime with my troubles.
Then I briefly think about calling Asher.
Think! What would Jess say?
I mean I should call him since I’m the one who ran off right?
Only if I do I risk hearing what he doesn't want and I don't know if I can handle the rejection.
Elle, you're great BUT...
Ugh.
Post-Asher-Make-Out, Day Four
Commuting from my parents’ house is a real bitch. It's only been a few days but I'm already over it. By the time I get home I barely get any sleep before it’s back on the road to beat rush hour.
I spend all day at work Thursday going over finances.
I have a decent amount saved, but as late afternoon approaches so does exactly what I already suspect: I don’t have nearly enough to live in Manhattan alone.
I make a mental note to talk to Jess when she returns. Maybe we’ll be roomies again after all. If I can convince her to leave Brooklyn. Except she has that horrendous cat.
Since I get no actual work done I stay late.
By the time I'm done I decide the hell with it. I can't afford shit anyway, so I mine as well splurge for a hotel and get a good nights sleep.
I’ve never stayed in a hotel room alone before.
Honestly it’s a little freaky, not to mention boring and lonely.
A couple of hours later it turns out I can't sleep so well alone in a strange place. Guess I just wasted a few hundred dollars.