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)
Then again, if he did try something I would be upset. I think. Would I?
Oh god.
He clears his throat, and I look up, my eyes glazed.
Make up your mind, do you want him to hit on you or not?
"Earth to Elle?"
“Yeah?” As his face comes into focus it's blatantly obvious he's not playing at anything. Rather, he just admitted something big to me. I think about telling him that he’s amazing at whatever he does, and while that's the truth I’m sure everyone says that to him. I mean that's the whole point of what he just said, right? He thinks people placate him because of who he is, and I'm sure that's true. Hell, haven't I been doing that to a certain extent too?
“Well, your fame won’t last forever. Better have a good backup plan, right?” I shake my head. Why did I say that? How stupid. Out of all the things... I'm sorry you feel that way, I'm sure that's not true... I went with that... and while it's likely true for most celebrities he’s sort of past that point. I don’t think Asher Montgomery will ever not be famous. He's a household name. Plus, he probably has so much money that he doesn't need a backup plan. God, of all the dumb things... I look over and bite my lip, surprised to see him... highly amused.
Oh.
“Please,” he smirks, “be as direct as possible.”
“Sorry,” I mumble. He looks away and clears his throat, and I narrow my stare as he takes out another phone.
"You have two phones?"
"Sure," he shrugs. "This is my private one."
"Which one did you text me on?" the words spill out quickly, dying to know like it matters.
He bites his lip to hide another smile, holding my gaze.
"This one."
I slowly nod as he places the phone back down, annoyingly but charmingly so, and gives me his full attention.
Only I'm not ready for it.
The way his eyes cut into mine, so piercing and green, like emeralds. A stare like that would ignite a flame in anyone, even if he weren't Asher Montgomery. “So tell me, do you like being a writer?”
I don’t mean to give him the look of death. I'm not feeling like myself, or maybe I am a litle too much. Finally. But a writer? Me? I work for a teen magazine. That hardly qualifies me as a writer. Besides, I'm more like an editor and even that is pushing it.
"Uhhh..."
He raises an eyebrow.
See, I'm terrible with words. I can't even think of anything good to say. Writer, I am not.
"The thing is..." I clear my throat, snapping out of it. You don't need to be a writer to form a coherent sentence. "I think most people imagine working for a magazine as this glamorous job. Not like, celebrity glamorous, but it has its appeal. I hear how great it must be all the time, but...I... I... truth is, I hate it."
I only wanted to do it to have a chance like this.
Thank god I don't say that.
And now I realize how stupid that is.
I stare into Asher’s ridiculously green eyes as it dawns on me... he's the first person to ever ask me that. How I like it. Everyone just assume I do because it’s what I’m doing, but really it's one of those things that sound better on paper. Reality is a cruel joke. I guess I'm still learning that.
He looks... eager, like I gave the right answer, and I remain... perplexed and yet completely at ease. A big ball of elated confusion. In this moment it's okay to be myself and not feel bad about it.
Yet he's silent and I don't know what that means.
He's not asking for me to elaborate, or why, and I think I appreciate that more than anything. Same goes for the fact that he's not offering some dumb comment. He's comfortable in his skin - in this conversation, which makes me the same.
“I don't know that I know exactly what I want to do," I croak. "I guess I'm a bit more clueless then I let on."
He leans forward and places his hands under his chin. It feels amazing to admit that.
Clueless. Why do people frown upon not knowing? I for one deem it perfectly acceptable.
I place my hands behind my head and lean back. A weight has truly lifted right off me, like a good twenty pounds shed from each shoulder. I accept what I know, which is that I don't know, and I for once am not ashamed about it.
"Does that freak you out?" I meet his gaze. "To be so aspiring yet sit here with someone like me, who is completely unaware of her own life?"
"No." He looks like he knows something I don't. "But I also don't think that's completely you - unaware. Maybe you're somewhat unsure but you're not indifferent."