Wednesday, January 28, 2015
I know what you’re thinking. It’s unconventional to want a man nine years older than you. It’s inconvenient to crush on your dearest friend’s older brother. It’s silly to pine after a man for six years. It’s cliché to lust after a celebrity. It’s pathetic to fall in love with a man who barely knows you exist.
I know what you’re thinking because I’ve thought it all, too. And yet that hasn’t stopped me from wanting Blake Campbell. Charming, gorgeous, brilliant, kind, selfless – Blake is everything I’ve ever wanted, but he doesn’t see me that way. In fact, he hardly noticed me until one night.
Traumatic events brought us together for the first time, but then he tossed me aside. I know it’s irrational, but I wanted him up until the moment he left me lying there alone.
When his eyes finally open and he finds out I’ve left, will it be too late?
They say life is about choices. You spend your life making decisions and dealing with the consequences, whether they are positive or negative. In my tumultuous frame of mind, I make a choice. A very poorly thought out choice, but one that I have to live with, nevertheless.
As soon as Cassidy finishes her encore, I tell the girls that we’re going backstage to meet the singer. They follow behind the private elevator to the lower level of the Chi Center, talking giddily. I push their voices out of my mind, leading them with long, purposeful strides.
There are perks to owning the joint. The security guards clear the way for me, knowing not to bother me when I’m in a foul mood.
With a short knock, I push my way into Cassidy’s crowded backstage room. The moment she lays her fake-eyelash covered gaze on me, she squeals. The sound hurts my ears, but I pretend it doesn’t.
“Blake Campbell, I didn’t know you were coming back here!” She literally launches herself at me, latching her over tanned arms around my neck and thrusting her glitter-speckled tits against my chest.
And then, in plain sight of Stella, I yank the pop star into my arms and thrust my tongue down her throat.
You are a moron.
About the Author:
Olivia Luck lives in the middle of America with her loving husband and her obsession with writing. She wrote her first romance novel at age eight. When she’s not reading, editing, or writing, you can find her in the kitchen learning to cook. Olivia loves to travel and spend time with her family.
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