paparazzi know you’re there, you’re going to be bombarded.”
And that was not a lie. The thing I hated most about my career choice was the paparazzi. Some of them were nice, but the majority—not so much. They would do just about anything to get a good picture. Except this was Burden. Nothing ever happened in this little town, so the paparazzi would be stupid to show up here. They wouldn’t get anything good. I was counting on them to realize that.
“Maybe it’s not a good idea for you to be there, after all.”
“You didn’t care when I said that to you last week.”
“Well, that was different.”
“I’m staying.”
“You just love making things difficult, don’t you?”
“Look, when you told me to stop touring—I stopped. When you sent me to that stupid anorexia center—I went. Now, you sent me here—and I’m staying for the full seven weeks.”
“You’re pushing your luck, Carter.”
“So are you!” I hung up angrily. I pushed my plate away. That conversation ruined my appetite.
“You’re good at pushing that guy’s buttons,” John observed.
I shrugged. “He’s an ass-clown.”
John laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”
“But, he’s an ass-clown that’s good at his job,” I admitted with the shake of my head.
“So, I’m guessing that performance went viral?”
“Yeah.” I rubbed my forehead.
“At least it was a good one,” he said, eyes sparkling with laughter.
“Oh, fuck off.” I smiled.
***
Chapter 7
I was too afraid to leave my house Friday, but I was able to write two new songs and I called to check up on Becks, who didn’t answer, but instead sent me an apology text. Apparently, she was having a brutal hangover. And after spending all of Friday confined to the area of my bedroom, I was happy for it to be Saturday.
Because Saturday meant I was going to go out with Easton.
After staring at the scale in the bathroom for fifteen minutes, I decided to just check my weight. No big deal, right?
115.
I’m not fat, I’m healthy. I’m not fat, I’m healthy. I repeated the mantra in my head a couple more times before stepping off the scale, and opting out of eating breakfast.
My stomach rumbled, as I walked into the kitchen to say good morning to everyone. Dad was already gone, working on a Saturday. Mom was in the yard gardening, and as expected, John was sitting at the table with two cups of coffee—waiting for me.
“Here.” He slid a cup across the table to me. “Your mom wanted me to tell you there are waffles in the oven.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry,” I lied.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t give me that look. I’m a grown woman.” He opened his mouth to say something, but I continued, “And it’s none of your business.”
He reluctantly nodded. “Where are we going today?”
“Itching to get out of the house, John?” I teased. I’m sure he hated being cooped up as much as I did.
He only shrugged.
“I’m meeting this guy for lunch today.”
“Are you actually gonna eat?” he asked.
I gave him a sharp look.
“Sorry, that was out of line.”
“Forget it, but we gotta be there by one, okay?”
He nodded.
“Hey, you haven’t seen any photographers, have you?”
“Nope, but I also haven’t left the house.”
My phone buzzed on the table, and I silently prayed it wasn’t Devin.
Easton: Does the human shield have to tag along tonight?
I giggled as I read his text. Then typed out a response.
Aisley: Afraid so. He’s pretty into watching.
I glanced up at John, and giggled quietly.
“Do I want to know?” he asked.
I shook my head at him and my phone buzzed again.
Easton: Unless he’s into some kinky shit, he’s gonna want to close his eyes tonight, Carter. ;) I’ll pick you up at 8:30.
A smile crept onto my face and I bit my lip, trying not to laugh again. I didn’t realize how much I missed East, until I saw him again.
How the hell was I going to leave him
And that was not a lie. The thing I hated most about my career choice was the paparazzi. Some of them were nice, but the majority—not so much. They would do just about anything to get a good picture. Except this was Burden. Nothing ever happened in this little town, so the paparazzi would be stupid to show up here. They wouldn’t get anything good. I was counting on them to realize that.
“Maybe it’s not a good idea for you to be there, after all.”
“You didn’t care when I said that to you last week.”
“Well, that was different.”
“I’m staying.”
“You just love making things difficult, don’t you?”
“Look, when you told me to stop touring—I stopped. When you sent me to that stupid anorexia center—I went. Now, you sent me here—and I’m staying for the full seven weeks.”
“You’re pushing your luck, Carter.”
“So are you!” I hung up angrily. I pushed my plate away. That conversation ruined my appetite.
“You’re good at pushing that guy’s buttons,” John observed.
I shrugged. “He’s an ass-clown.”
John laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”
“But, he’s an ass-clown that’s good at his job,” I admitted with the shake of my head.
“So, I’m guessing that performance went viral?”
“Yeah.” I rubbed my forehead.
“At least it was a good one,” he said, eyes sparkling with laughter.
“Oh, fuck off.” I smiled.
***
Chapter 7
I was too afraid to leave my house Friday, but I was able to write two new songs and I called to check up on Becks, who didn’t answer, but instead sent me an apology text. Apparently, she was having a brutal hangover. And after spending all of Friday confined to the area of my bedroom, I was happy for it to be Saturday.
Because Saturday meant I was going to go out with Easton.
After staring at the scale in the bathroom for fifteen minutes, I decided to just check my weight. No big deal, right?
115.
I’m not fat, I’m healthy. I’m not fat, I’m healthy. I repeated the mantra in my head a couple more times before stepping off the scale, and opting out of eating breakfast.
My stomach rumbled, as I walked into the kitchen to say good morning to everyone. Dad was already gone, working on a Saturday. Mom was in the yard gardening, and as expected, John was sitting at the table with two cups of coffee—waiting for me.
“Here.” He slid a cup across the table to me. “Your mom wanted me to tell you there are waffles in the oven.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry,” I lied.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t give me that look. I’m a grown woman.” He opened his mouth to say something, but I continued, “And it’s none of your business.”
He reluctantly nodded. “Where are we going today?”
“Itching to get out of the house, John?” I teased. I’m sure he hated being cooped up as much as I did.
He only shrugged.
“I’m meeting this guy for lunch today.”
“Are you actually gonna eat?” he asked.
I gave him a sharp look.
“Sorry, that was out of line.”
“Forget it, but we gotta be there by one, okay?”
He nodded.
“Hey, you haven’t seen any photographers, have you?”
“Nope, but I also haven’t left the house.”
My phone buzzed on the table, and I silently prayed it wasn’t Devin.
Easton: Does the human shield have to tag along tonight?
I giggled as I read his text. Then typed out a response.
Aisley: Afraid so. He’s pretty into watching.
I glanced up at John, and giggled quietly.
“Do I want to know?” he asked.
I shook my head at him and my phone buzzed again.
Easton: Unless he’s into some kinky shit, he’s gonna want to close his eyes tonight, Carter. ;) I’ll pick you up at 8:30.
A smile crept onto my face and I bit my lip, trying not to laugh again. I didn’t realize how much I missed East, until I saw him again.
How the hell was I going to leave him
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