Studying the grainy image, I realize he’s wearing the same clothes as that morning too. But instead of the anger I’d seen plastered on his face when he told me to leave, there’s shame. What could a man like Garrick have to be ashamed of?
Everything else posted about him lately is simply speculation. Sources that claim one thing or another about the Australian singer, and photos from the band’s world tour this year. Nothing important is given away, and I’m not sure if I should be grateful or disappointed. After what happened earlier this week, I doubt any “in” Sarina thinks I have with the band will work. Garrick didn’t even recognize me from my previous involvement with Zayne, and I highly doubt Zayne will speak to me about what the media outlets are saying. Not that I blame either of them.
Blowing a piece of fallen hair out of my face, I remember the way his fingertips felt against my flushed skin when he moved hair behind my ear. Something as simple as that shouldn’t have gotten a rise out of me, so I blame the lack of male attention I’ve gotten over the past few years. My last boyfriend was hardly serious, lasting only a few months, and the farthest we’d gone was him grinding on me one night in bed while touching my boobs.
I drop my head down and let my hair waterfall around me. “Better luck next time,” I tell myself, nibbling my bottom lip.
I’m about to close my computer and throw away the remainder of my uneaten meal when I see a message pop up from Moffie.
IceQween:
Have you found a new place yet?
Frowning at the question, I debate on pretending like I didn’t see it to avoid hurting her feelings. It’d be easier than explaining why I haven’t even looked yet. As far as Moffie and my family know, I have steady work. The last article I got paid big for was a piece on some up-and-coming star who was caught coming out of a hotel room of a married record producer. It wouldn’t have been that scandalous if she hadn’t been 18 and he hadn’t been one of the judges of the singing competition she won.
The article paid a lot because of the heat it got, leaving her to be stripped of the first-place title when the show’s team felt it wasn’t rightly earned. Last I heard, the runner up got everything—the trophy, title, and shiny record deal. And I got more opportunities to break similar stories for fast cash.
IceQween:
I know you’re on, Rylee. DON’T IGNORE ME!
Well, there goes that idea.
CannonIsMine95:
I’m still looking
I cringe at the lie, feeling bad as I hit the enter key and watch it turn to read before the bubbles appear on the screen she as types a reply.
IceQween:
I found some that could work for you. I’ll send links!
Moffie is ten times more organized than I am and always on top of things. I tend to wait last minute, and it irritates her. But how am I going to explain the places she finds won’t work no matter how good of a deal they are?
Instead of being honest, I take a different approach before bailing as quickly as possible.
CannonIsMine95:
Thanks, Moff. Gotta go. Ttyl!
I’m thankful she didn’t call. She’s most likely in her classroom right now, using her work computer as the kids work on something. If she heard my voice, she would know in an instant that things aren’t okay and demand the truth.
Packing up my things, I pull out the keys and see the Women’s United Homeless Shelter pamphlet fall onto the floor. I’ve managed to avoid the inevitable for this long, but I’m starting to realize my other options are limited.
Go back to the east coast.
Or go to this shelter.
It isn’t like it’d be the end of the world either way, but if I decided to walk into Women’s United I’d feel like a fraud. I have somewhere to go, even if it’s clear across the country. My parents would welcome me with open arms and help me figure things out with sound reasoning, but then I’d feel like a failure.
Which is worse?
Realistically, I know the answer. Failure is subjective—there are always other opportunities out there I can explore. My parents believe in optimism and positive thinking and used to say that failure wasn’t the opposite of success but part of the journey. My mindset has always been different than theirs, though. I’d like to think I’m a glass half full type of person, but deep down I know I’m really the one who accidently drops the glass and watches the contents empty onto the floor, making the point moot.
I’m walking to the car when I notice the sun setting already. I hadn’t realized I’d been working so late.
Back home, I used to watch the sun go down through my bay window where Dad built me a writing nook. I wasn’t big on reading even though both my parents are big book nerds, but I’d always bring my journal or laptop to the window and write whatever was on my mind while the daylight faded.
I miss the simplicity of childhood. Back then, the only thing I had to worry about was getting homework done on time and being home before dinner so I wouldn’t be given extra chores or grounded. Now, life is constantly throwing curve balls at my face waiting to see if I’ll hit it or strike out.
Everyone takes advantage of the things they have because none of us realize how easily it can all be taken away. The innocence,
