Page 34 of Drawn to You
She answers on the fourth ring, and her voice is sleepy.
“What the hell is the engagement talk about? Is it a joke?” I go straight to the point. “We’re not even dating. I’m not your boyfriend.”
She takes a moment to speak again. “I didn’t say we were. I just said I liked you.”
Damn. I quickly glanced over the article again. It’s true she doesn’t say it clearly. “But your comments mislead people. You could’ve corrected them when they asked when we were getting married. Besides, we aren’t in an open relationship. We aren’t in any relationship at all!”And I definitely don’t adore you.
She sighs loudly. “What’s the problem? It’s not like you’re dating anyone.”
“I’m not, but it doesn’t mean you can freely use me for a prank.”
“Well, too bad. Think of it as part of advertising expenses from hiring me.”
Shit. Unbelievable. I don’t know why it bothers me. It shouldn’t. But to think that someone might take her words seriously makes me cringe. In particular, the someone is Britt. She would think I’m a jerk….I hope she hasn’t read this post. “What the hell did you do that for?”
“It boosts my popularity, you know? Guys want to think it’s possible for a commoner to date a celebrity. I’m not saying you’re a commoner, though. You’re an amazing guy.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, you’re doing it at my expense!”
“I’m doing you a favor, Andrew. Your membership must’ve spiked because of my announcement!”
She’s probably right. I noticed an increase in enrollment today, but I thought it was because of the FB advertisement Brittney created.
Despite my irritation, I speak in a softer tone. “Well, I appreciate the positive effect, Melissa, but I don’t think it’s right to create this kind of false news.”
She scoffs. “Come on, Andrew. That’s what celebrities do. Haven’t you learned from your friend Connor?”
I know what she means, but still, I don’t like it.
“Don’t worry,” she says. “It’s not a big deal. People will forget what I say soon. Although I was honest when I said I loved being with you.”
Goosebumps rise on my skin, and I cringe. “It was great working with you, Melissa, but still, I would appreciate it if you could make a public announcement to clear the misconception soon.”
She falls silent for a few seconds, and then she says crossly. “Sure, I’ll do that, Andrew. But don’t expect me to do any ads for you in the future!”
Before I even speak, she hangs up.
My mouth falls open. What an obnoxious woman!
I pace in the living room long after I hang up, not because of Melissa, but because of Brittney. I have a feeling her sudden decision to move out of my house has something to do with Melissa’s false rumor, and I want to call her to find out.
I dial her number, but she doesn’t answer it. It’s not yet ten, so she shouldn’t be in bed already. What’s she doing? Where is she? Suddenly, I miss her like hell. I have the urge to go to her apartment to check on her, but I stop myself. What good would it do? I still can’t promise her anything, and I’ll give her false hope. It isn’t right to beg her to come back if it only means we’ll break up again. Besides, if Brittney reacts so badly to just a rumor between another woman and me, how will she take it when we say goodbye? Again, it’s better to end it sooner than later.
Chapter 15
Brittney
I wake to the sound of a loud blast of a car horn. No! I barely drifted into sleep just about a few minutes ago. This place is hell. The traffic isn’t exactly heavy, but cars keep whirling past once in a while. And there are all kinds of noises, such as homeless people yelling and singing and smashing bottles or car alarms going off once every few minutes.
On top of that, the folks who live downstairs of me didn’t seem to go to bed. They talked, they cooked, and they vacuumed the house in the middle of the night! I’ve only stayed here for a night and already need to complain to the landlady. She needs to remind her tenants about the quiet times—I distinctly remember it being stated on the contract. I’ve got to check. And all the car alarms should be off during the nights for cars on the apartment parking lot.
And I need to get some earplugs, although I doubt even earplugs would make any difference with these noises.
I glance at my phone clock. It’s already nine. I went to bed at eleven but didn’t get more than an hour’s sleep. I sigh and jump off the bed, feeling groggy and grouchy. I know I’m going to have a rough day. Without a good night’s sleep, I’ll have a foul mood and won’t be able to concentrate on any work.
I quickly have a bowl of cereal and get dressed. When I get to the parking lot, my mouth falls, and I want to scream. The window of my Ford pickup is gone! Shards scatter on the ground—no wonder the shattering sound of a breaking bottle last night. It was my car!
Shit. I didn’t have any alarm, but I wouldn’t have known it was my car even if I had. What the hell am I supposed to do?
