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)
“I guess not completely. I'm not lazy, and I am ambitious. I have a college degree. I long to work towards something, just haven't figured out what that is yet."
"The thing that makes you happy."
"Right," I nod, and I think for sure the next time I look up Asher would be back on his phone, or waiting to tell me something about himself; you know how celebrities are, but instead he’s staring at me. I still can't tell if he thinks I’m fascinating or what, but what I like even more about him is that he continues to not offer advice. Like an unspoken bond - a mutual understanding between us he’s aware that there’s nothing to say - that listening is more helpful than anything else. No one listens to me, except for maybe my Mom, who is completely biased, and my therapist, who gets paid to. Yet of all people he's giving me what I need - what I've needed for so long that no one else has provided, an ear.
A small smile teases my lips, my stare unintentionally landing on the guitar yet again. He lets out a ridiculously loud and annoyed sigh. “You can ask whatever it is you’re thinking. I know you want to.”
I swallow hard, afraid to go there but too curious not to. He was so good at all things music. It’s what made me a fan in the first place - his voice, his passion. I admired him for that. Of course his looks don't hurt either.
“Why?”
I don’t know if I’m asking why me. Like why he chose to ask me of all people here today. Or why he makes me feel this way, or if I'm being that obvious. Or why he left Let’s Go, or why he stopped making music altogether. Probably all of it. I want answers to all of the above.
He inhales deeply, his brows furrow, he's choosing his words carefully.
“It was a lot of things,” his expression is pained, and I lick my lips, wondering if that's all he's going to say on the matter, especially as his eyes glaze over like he's suddenly off in another world.
I can't tell if it's a world he misses or one he longs to forget.
He stays like that for a while, and when I hear his intake of air his lips part and the annoyance on his face is gone.
“What do you want to know?" his voice holds a hint of anger. "What I’m supposed to tell people? That I felt the need to explore my other options, or what really happened?” His eyes have taken on that dark type of grassy green, and I don’t - I can’t - respond, which is fine, because I don't think he wants me to. I think he needs that ear too, without being appeased. “I listened to a lot of bad people and lost my friends, my family,” his bluntness catches me off guard. “Do you want to know how I got caught up in the business, with girls - with drugs?”
“I don’t want to know anything you don’t want to tell me,” I croak. "I shouldn’t have even brought it up. I’m sorry.”
I don't know if he hears me. He's back to staring off in the distance, lost.
“I did though,” he presses his lips tightly together. “I did so many things I’m not proud of. I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”
I wait to see if he’s going to elaborate, knowing my heart will only break if he does. His chest rises and falls, and I’m literally sitting on the edge of my seat.
“We took a break,” he eventually swallows. “We were supposed to be exploring our own interests. That’s what we agreed on. All of us. We were going to get together in the New Year,” he shakes his head. “We agreed.”
Oh my god, he's talking about it.
“I used that time to put out a solo album. We had to have a certain amount of records done in an allotted time period with the label. It’s something I always wanted to do. I was constantly writing,” he looks me in the eye. “But I swear I had every intention on getting back with them…” his voice trails of, and I wait, once again unsure if he's going to continue, until he does. “I put out my solo album, and the next thing I know the label wants me to tour… alone. The New Year passes, and the reps keep pushing back the group’s next album. I thought everyone knew what was going on. I thought we were all being told the same thing," he rests his head in his hands, his voice mumbled. “Their calls got screened. I had no idea. I thought we were doing our own thing until we got back together,” he sighs, as if trying to forget. “They were in the studio - in the bloody studio waiting for me and I never showed up,” he raises his voice, and I swallow hard. “I was on the other side of the world. I didn’t know. I trusted the wrong people. I single handedly ruined everything. I hurt everyone I truly cared about.”