Page 8 of Followed By the CEO

“Thanks, sis.”

“You owe me six bucks.”

“That was the flat rate for babysitting back in the day,” he says.

“You remembered!”

We say our goodbyes, and that strange lump forms in my throat once again.

I bottle up that feeling and go back to watching TV. With that semi-wholesome content running in the background, I scarf down some spicy chicken while scrolling through my phone.

And what do I do? Search for “Hayden McAllister” on social media. Just like the man said I would.

That’s when I nearly choke on my General Tso’s.

“Excuse you?” I shriek, gawking at what I see on my screen.

Monster’s head pops up, and he gives one high-pitched bark, then goes back to snoring like a piglet.

With my chopsticks and takeout container set aside, I scroll with both thumbs because this is important, and I need to focus.

I scroll up and down on the man’s profile just to make sure it’s him that I’m looking at.

Hayden McAllister is the founder and CEO of Conquest Sports.

I’m so blown away that I throw my phone down on the cushion. I can’t decide how I feel about the fact that I was wondering what those long fingers could do.

And why is my world so upside down now? Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you know that Conquest is only the biggest sporting equipment company in the country. Maybe in the world. I think there are two of his stores in Hollywood alone.

He sponsors the fucking Olympics.

Just then, a follow request comes through on my social page. And it’s from the same verified account that I’m looking at.

And then another notification pops up. And then another.

Hayden McAllister wants to follow me literally everywhere. For real.

I am being stalked by someone with Super Bowl commercial money.

Barely able to stand myself, I look down at the logo on the hip of my sweatpants, and there it is: Conquest Sports.

Breathe, Mills.

The next thing I do is turn off the TV and pick up my dog. Monster protests with a yowl.

“Knock it off, little man. You’re my emotional support dog now.”

Soon enough the dog settles down on the sofa cushion, warming my leg as I scroll. And scroll. And fucking scroll.

chapter

four

Hayden

The banter in the waiting area for this commercial audition is absolutely criminal.

“I heard Mills Mosley is in there, reading for the main part. She’ll probably get it, too, with those tits of hers.”

---