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)
In my head Asher is everything Travis is not, which is a dangerous way to think. Especially about someone who can't pick up a phone.
The next day at work new pictures of Asher fill my inbox. He’s still in Barbados. He's at the beach being hounded by fans. It reminds me of when Jess and I stalked him outside that Broadway theater.
I instantly feel bad.
Poor guy really can’t go anywhere.
In the next set of images it’s night. Last night. He’s with someone and I squint to see if it's a male or female.
By the third picture I can tell it’s Brad. I hate how my shoulders slacken. I'm relieved. I flip through the shots of them at a local island bar. Asher seems content, and as upset as I am that I haven't heard from him I still can't help but feel happy when he looks that way.
When he's with his friend his mouth doesn't hold a trace of those hard edges. Not like in the beach photos. His eyes are relaxed, but not amused, like they were with me.
I amused him.
I wonder if he’s thought about me, even a little. Or if he told Brad about me like he told me about him.
Did he call me his friend?
What if we never talk again?
What if I lost the most real connection I ever felt?
What if it was all in my head?
And the envelope thing! What the hell was that?
I feel his in my pocket because of course it comes with me everywhere. I bet he made it all up. The thought makes me sad. So sad that I take out my phone.
Don’t text him.
It’s his move.
Don’t be the creepy stalker.
I place the phone back on my desk and sink into my chair, worried.
What happens if I truly never get over Asher Montgomery?
Another week passes.
I’m beginning to think I never hung out with him in the first place.
Maybe I made the whole thing up.
Except his number is still in my phone.
I would know, I stare at it all the time like the pathetic person I am.
In fact I have it memorized.
June
June First. Today is Asher’s birthday.
The second I wake I log online to check my favorite gossip blogs. It's a dirty habit that I'll never get over.
I freeze. His name is everywhere. Something happened overnight.
My hands shake and the mouse drops off the desk, startling Travis awake. He rolls his eyes because it's just me, but I don't engage. My eyes are glued to the screen. I rub them to make sure I'm not dreaming.
There's a new rumor.
Asher Montgomery might be getting back into music.
For me, it’s proof that our conversation was real.
By the time I get to the office it's buzzing. Even before I reach my desk I sense the air is different.
Last night Asher tweeted a mysterious hint that his team has not yet confirmed or denied. Only I know the truth. I hate how I rest easy because he was being honest with me after all.
I remain at my desk the whole morning, smiling wide.
Mid-afternoon Amelia calls me into her office, which is never a good thing.
I approach warily and begrudgingly.
No pleasantries as exchanged. She demands to know if I saw or heard anything about the rumors while in Barbados.
I see the wheels turning in her mind, hoping to claim some sort of exclusive story to impress our editor in chief.
“You saw my transcript. The interview was quick and to the point,” I shrug, waiting for the inevitable wrath.
She leans back, her bright pink chair creaking. Then she clasps her hands as her eyes narrow in.
I won't leave unscathed.
Her face is stuck in a constant state of prissy and panic.
But in a strange turn of events it's not cold. It's just not interested in anything having to do with me. But there's no yelling. Nothing about how incompetent I am. Just a flick of her wrist.
I'm dismissed.
“If you want something done you have to do it yourself!” I stop at the door and turn around, just in time to catch her roll her eyes in outrage. Once again, stupid me. She wasn't finished after all. "I won't blame myself for expecting more of you. You're not cut out for this type of work."
There it is.
I should tell her if that’s how she feels then she should have gone and done the interview herself. That's what new Elle would do, stand up for herself. But I don’t allow the thought to pass my lips. Interviewing Asher Montgomery was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I regret nothing. I stand and embrace the slaughter.
Another few days pass.
Maybe now I should text Asher. Maybe something like congrats, I’m glad you’re getting back into music.
I stare at his number but do nothing.
Chicken.
I groan, tapping the side of my phone with a sense of fondness. He’s taking the more difficult path.