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)
Still, I don’t look back, fearing I’ll change my mind. I know teenage Liesl hates me right now. Hell, current Liesl kind of hates me too.
But that’s okay.
It's okay to stand up for the things I want, and just before I turn the corner I do end up looking over my shoulder, just to prove to myself that I could. With a scowl his gaze is narrowed in on my back, and as I grin I see him falter. I can’t imagine Asher Montgomery has been turned down many times before, and more than anything, I can’t believe I’m the one to do it.
2
Unknown
I return to my hotel room, seven floors below Asher’s, and dramatically throw myself onto the bed. The pillows are soft, and the linen crisp. Housekeeping came, and I love how fresh everything smells.
I'm supposed to meet Travis at the beach, but don’t move. I'm in this weird state of mind, hanging onto the rush. Despite what happened all I want to do is be alone and remember my time with Asher Montgomery, who turned out to be kind of a difficult prick.
Okay, lies. All lies.
I want to march back upstairs and let him do whatever he wants to me, if that's what he was even insinuating, and even if it wasn't I don't know that I care. Part of me wanted to take the opportunity he presented me with and completely throw myself at him, and only a little piece of me hates myself for it. Obviously I didn't go for it, but I mean if I know what a jerk he is, and that none of it is real, does it matter? Why do I have to choose to be all high and mighty now?
For a fleeting moment I pretend that he wanted me to stay for purely carnal reasons, and he did apologize for giving me a hard time, so there's that.
I let my head fall against the feathery pillow and close my eyes, committing his smile and voice to memory. I pretend his laughter wasn't at my expense, and I push all the embarrassing moments aside. I allow myself this time to imagine - to soak it all in before accepting that it’s over and done, and then I'll return to reality.
It takes a while, but eventually I convince myself to get out of bed.
More about Travis, your actual boyfriend, and less about Asher Montgomery!
I attempt to distract myself with the things that are real, but as I think about what I actually look for in a guy I realize I'm still living in that dream world. Especially as I wonder if Travis left me a note, or hell, even an I hope the interview went well message, but that's not him... and yet that's what I want - I want simple things - easy things, fun and cute things, and that's when I realize that Travis leaving me a cute note is almost as far fetched as Asher Montgomery. Yet for some reason I still check, like I'm willing for it to be real. I look over the nightstand, the desk, under my laptop, and even in the bathroom.
There’s nothing.
The hotel room remains note-free, unless you count Yolanda the housekeeper’s message. She hopes we’ve had a nice day.
I used to think I was just a hopeless romantic but now I'm starting to think that I'm just hopeless.
But the girl who turned down extra time with Asher Montgomery, she's not hopeless.
I come across the mailer I’m supposed to overnight Asher’s interview tape in. I start to address it, but stop. What am I thinking? There’s no way I can let anyone listen to this! I bite my lip and think, before tossing it in the trash and grabbing my laptop. I have no choice but to transcribe the interview myself.
Or maybe I just want to hear his voice again.
God Elle, why do you have to be so pathetic?
I’m halfway through transcribing when I receive an email from Amelia asking for the tracking number. I’m pretty sure she sleeps, eats, and breathes work, but truth be told I’m a little jealous. It must be nice being that passionate and into something. The only thing I’ve ever been into is Asher Montgomery and that's just stupid.
I email her my typed out (and majorly edited) interview, and her reply is of course immediate.
She’s pleased by my initiative.
If she only knew.
I close my laptop and start to roll up my headphones, pausing as my gaze lands on the recorder.
Screw it.
I re-listen to the tape for a second time, rolling my eyes whenever I sound stupid (which is most of the time).
Once done I grab my phone and hit the power button, forgetting I turned it off earlier. It immediately buzzes with not only Mom’s messages from before, but unanswered texts from Jess and Sam, both wanting to know how the interview went.