I remember the first time I met Zayne was after I’d studied his routine and went to his favorite café in the city. I’d purposefully bumped into him so he’d notice me, and he’d definitely noticed the way my shorts had been a little too short and my top a little too tight and revealing. I felt awful about playing him, but Moffie had told me he did the same with hundreds of women which barely made me feel any better. He’d flirted with me, made me genuinely blush with his focused attention, and then asked me out. The word ‘no’ was on the tip of my tongue before I’d forced out the opposite, smiling like he’d made that day the best day of my life.
It didn’t take long to realize Zayne Gray was, and still is, a great person. It was obvious that he loved his friends and bandmates, and I enjoyed hearing about his passions outside of music that I hadn’t known about previously.
Maybe that’s the biggest reason why I’ll never forget the day I approached the bathroom at the club we’d gone to together feeling something heavy pressing against my chest as I opened the door, lifted the camera, and snapped a few pictures of him bent over the counter with the line of white powder covering it.
He didn’t deserve it, and I know that.
Nothing Moffie could say when I deposited the money from the article made me feel better, and she’d flown here to console me, bringing my favorite foods and movies to binge while we locked ourselves away in my apartment until she had to go back to New York.
And now here I am, online stalking him to make sure he’s happy, that he’s okay, while staying at his best friend’s house.
When I look down at the time on my phone, I realize that nearly two hours have gone by since I got back from Sarina’s office. Time flies when you’re stuck in your head wondering what other job you can get once your well-known boss fires you for not getting her a story on time.
Garrick taps my arm, causing me to blink at the hand resting on it. “You all right, Rylee? You spaced out.”
Blushing, I give him a small smile of reassurance. “Long day. Sorry.”
I follow him inside, listening as he talks and sets his things down on his way to the kitchen. “I’ll write down everything you’ll need so this never happens again. You should have my number too, in case of an emergency.”
My face twists, and I’m thankful his back is to me so he can’t see. “You don’t have t—”
“You keep saying that, but you’re not listening to my answer,” he cuts me off, amusement clear in his tone. “But you go do your business, and we’ll discuss that when you’re done because clearly you need it drilled in your head a little more.”
Slowly nodding despite my hesitancy over the conversation he wants to have, I set my bag down on the couch and head to the small half bath off the kitchen. I can hear him shuffling around, opening and closing cupboards, running water, and scraping back a chair as I wash my hands.
When I walk into the kitchen he gives me a once over and says, “You look beautiful. I like your hair like that.”
I fight the heat from sliding into my cheeks, flattening my shirt with my palms. “You told me that this morning.”
“And it’s still true.”
Biting down on the inside of my cheek, I walk over and take the seat across from him, wondering if it’s just second nature for him to pass off compliments with that flirty charm of his. “My boss is a stickler for looking professional even though nobody will meet her standards.”
Skepticism crowds his face. “Why?”
I must make a face because he snickers when I say, “She looks like the love child of Elvis Presley and Gisele Bündchen and dresses like it too. Legs for days, skinny, never a hair out of place or an outfit that she recycles. I’m convinced her closet looks like an outlet store.”
“You sound envious,” he remarks.
“No…” Okay, so maybe I’m a little jealous of her. “Well, I wouldn’t mind the clothes. She does have nice taste. But I’m not so sure I’d want the height.”
“Why not?”
His puzzled face makes me snort. “It’s not like I have anything against tall women. My best friend is five-ten. But there’s an advantage of being short, like not being hassled at the grocery store when people can’t reach things.”
Garrick laughs at my introverted nature. “But wouldn’t you be the one doing the hassling if you’re too short to reach things on the shelves?”
“You just climb them.”
He gapes at me.
I shrug. “We do what we have to.”
“You’re not even that short, Rylee.”
“The shelves are really high.”
We stare at each other before smiles crack our otherwise serious expressions.
He leans back in his chair. “So what happened at work? You said you had a long day, so it must have to do with Gelvis.”
Confusion smacks me in the face. “I’m sorry, what?”
One of his shoulders lifts. “Gelvis. You know, Gisele and Elvis combined. I don’t know her name, love. Work with me here. I’m trying to keep up the conversation.”
“You make her sound like a Marvel character. Her name is Sarina.”
He waits for me to answer him.
Sighing in reluctance, I obey. “She wants me to pitch her a story next week, and I’m stressed. It’s nothing.”
“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”
I debate on what to do. I could skirt around the conversation, but something tells me he won’t give it up that easily, and I’ve already divulged the worst I’ve done at my job. “I tried getting out of doing some sort of exposé on you that she wants me to write. You’re all big news right now because everybody thinks Violet Wonders
