Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Seems odd, intimate moments keep happening between us. First cutting his hair, and now lying here with him. Or maybe I’m just overly aware of his presence. He is a famous person with millions of followers on social media. To be sharing space with him is bizarre. But I also apparently sleepwalked through a relationship for a year, so it’s discombobulating to suddenly be so hyperaware of someone.
“I left just about everything,” he says. “Had the houses shut up.”
“So, you can always go back if you want to. Options are good.”
“I don’t know…I think it would kind of feel like defeat.”
“Sounds like you’re being hard on yourself. But doing this. Stepping back from your career and taking a break, or just living the rest of your life on your own terms, I think that’s brave.”
He grunts.
“To be honest, I don’t really want to go back either.”
“Is that because of the ex?”
“Sort of.”
And he just waits.
“You know when things seem fine?” I ask. “Daily life is happening and it’s okay. You’ve got work and some sort of social life and you’re not drowning in too much debt. When you stop and take a good look though, everything is…I don’t know.”
“Fucky?”
“Yes. That’s a good word for it. It’s just not great,” I say. “I know there are ups and downs and everyday stuff has to happen. But I honestly can’t remember the last time there was a high.”
“We’re not talking about drugs?”
“We’re not. Why did you choose here as your starting point for this new life?”
He thinks it over for a moment. “Because I trust Audrey. And I missed her. What about you?”
“I liked the idea of having a functioning relationship with a member of my family.”
“You’re not close with your parents?”
I shake my head. “There’s just my mom and no.”
He waits for me to say more. Which is a problem because I don’t know what to say. We’re in deep water with these topics. There’s also a small chance I searched him online earlier, and found heaps of shots of him performing with a guitar in hand and a western-style hat on his head. Interviews discussing his music with the occasional quip about his life and loves.
There wasn’t much about his family. But there were any number of photos of him with other famous types and the various people he’s dated. The bulk of whom were statuesque blondes with sunshine smiles. He has a type, and it’s the exact opposite of me.
The man has also achieved way more in life than me, which is sort of daunting.
“Audrey used to give me updates,” he says eventually. “Tell me what you were doing in Phoenix. What music you’d been listening to and bands you’d been to see. And how when I came through town, you never had time to come see me play for some reason.”
“Oh my god.”
“One time, Audrey said you had to wash your hair instead. I don’t know if you had hair down to the floor then. I mean, it goes halfway down your back now. Sure. But that still shouldn’t take you all night.”
“Hygiene is just really important to me, man.”
“Okay,” he says. “This other time, I said to Audrey, tell her you won some VIP tickets to Coachella so you two can—”
“Holy shit. That was you!”
“Can come see me play the main stage. Though as I understand it, you decided to go see a K-pop band on one of the other stages instead?”
“Nash.” I am not laughing at his man pain. Much.
“Were they good?”
“They were amazing.”
“I would hope so,” he says. “My set was great, thank you very much. Had one of the biggest crowds of all time.”
“What’s all the giggling and gossiping going on in here,” says Grandma from the bedroom door. “It sounds like summer camp.”
“He’s too tall for the couch,” I say.
Nash sits up. “I couldn’t sleep, it was too uncomfortable.”
“I’ve found you contentedly sleeping curled up on a marble floor,” says Grandma. “Do I need to go and get my stick?”
“That was after a lot of whiskey, when I was much younger, Audrey.”
“I love you, but I know you, and I think this is unwise. There isn’t anything wrong with your lifestyle, my boy,” says Grandma. “Whatever consensual adults do is their own business. But she isn’t used to it.”
I smile. “The bed is huge. He’s fine. Nothing is happening.”
Grandma sighs. She seems to be experiencing big feelings. “You’re a grown adult, June, so I’m not going to tell you what to do. What I will say is that the number of people I escorted from his house the morning after is well over double digits. And I would hate to see you get hurt again, especially so soon.”
My mouth stays shut. I’m not explaining my familiarity with the concept of a hookup to my grandmother at two in the morning. It’s just not happening. Nor am I in need of a rebound. Though I don’t know if I’d turn one down with this particular person.