AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I know you’ve been obsessed with Rhett for your entire life, but I met the guy once at that charity ball thing I went to with Liam, and I can say from experience that you probably don’t want to go full-Beth on him right away.”
“You went full-Beth on him?” What did full-Beth even mean? And how was I supposed to be half-Beth? Skip every other sentence I meant to speak?
“No, I was the opposite, and he was super chill.” Her voice was soft, like she wanted to warn me but not hurt my feelings. The careful tone of a woman who knew my deepest fragilities and wanted to cover the sharp corners of her words so I didn’t crack my head open on them.
As someone who’d been my best friend since we were little, she’d earned the right to say hard things to me. She’d hugged me when I cried about not having anyone to take me to the father-daughter dance in fifth grade, and she was brave enough to ease me out of my ABBA phase in high school. No one should be allowed to blastDancing Queentwenty-six times in a row at top volume with their bedroom window open. It bordered on inhumane.
But I didn’t want to hearthis. Not be myself? That was a hard pill to swallow.
“Maybe just keep that in mind,” she said. “I didn’t fangirl at all when I met him, and he was so chill. He just seemed normal.”
“You say this now, but all I’m wondering is why you walked out of that ball without an autograph for me if Rhett was so easygoing.”
Charlie’s laugh sounded more concerned than authentic. Which she had good reason for, since I had absolutely zero intention of following her advice. She was sweet to offer it up anyway. I mean, I didn’t have a list of ex-boyfriends the length of California from being reserved or quiet like Charlie suggested.
“Well, he might not have been that way if I’d asked for an autograph. But you do you, Beth. I love you!” Charlie called in a singsongy voice.
“Love you back.” I hung up the phone.
Checking both sides of the street to make sure it was all clear, I swung my Mini Cooper around in the empty intersection and idled my car at the top of the hill. It wasn’t quite the steepest point in the city, but I couldn’t see beneath the hood of my car, and adrenaline coursed through my veins. Lights glittered over the city and across the Bay Bridge, and I could see Alcatraz and the Golden Gate in the distance, floating over the dark expanse of ocean.
I rolled my window down partway and sucked in the chilly Northern California air. My life was about to change. I was about to meet the man I had been in love with since he starred in the teen hitJust Uswhen I was in middle school. He was hot stuffas an adolescent, but now the man was straight-up dreamy. Tall and dark, with an award-winning, bleach-white smile I’d only ever seen on a screen or magazine or the background of my phone. We could do better than meeting for the first time in the green room ofBreakfast with Juliana, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth—even if the show was all bright, popping colors and spunky ex-cheerleader.
But I didn’t care about any of that right now. All I cared about was calming my racing heart and trying to get some sleep so that I didn’t look like an exhausted vampire when I met up with the assistant at four-thirty tomorrow morning.
Ugh.I was not a morning person, and this was going to be a struggle. Before I started down the road, I typed my hotel into the GPS so my car could direct me to the Ritz. I felt so posh from thinking that, goosebumps spread over my arms. I’d never stayed anywhere so fancy. I grew up in a strict Holiday Inn household and carried that over into adulthood.
But what was wrong with that? Holiday Inns were clean, affordable, and the pillows were comfortable.
Windows opened to the cool, salty air, I let my car coast down the steep road, my heart buzzing from the adrenaline of feeling like I was flying in my Mini Cooper. I made my way toward the hotel with my blood pumping, eager for the opportunity coming my way.
Once I parked my car and lugged my bags to the main desk—yes,bags, plural. It was only one night, but I needed options. It only took a few minutes to get my room key and take the one working elevator up to the fourth floor. The hotel looked like an ancient Greek building from the outside and was covered in marble on the inside, and I was in love. Move aside, Rhett Myers, my affection had temporarily transferred to luxury hotels.
When I reached my room, I sank down on the edge of the mattress, my purse still slung over my shoulder, phone and room key in hand. I could hardly breathe. I was in the same building as Rhett Myers. Most likely. I mean, unless he hadn’t gotten to San Francisco yet or decided to go out and party in the city tonight, but I knew he probably wasn’t doing that. No, the Rhett I stalked on social media and every tabloid his lovely image graced made it very clear that he was not the partying type. He was the strong, silent type with too much money to count and eyes you could seriously get lost in. And that was just on screen. I was eager to discover if I could get lost in them in person too.
Pulling up the food delivery app on my phone, I located the Torch of India, and my mouth salivated as I put in my favorite order. Simple but delicious. Chicken tikka masala, basmati rice, and garlic naan. I didn’t know how I was going to wait the forty-six minutes until my food arrived without creating a moat of drool around my massive bed.
I decided to keep busy. I texted both Charlie and my mom to let them know of my safe arrival, then I pulled out my suitcases. I washed my face and changed into some neon-pink joggers before throwing my sleek, dark hair up in a messy ponytail. It was too straight naturally for a messy bun, and I avoided them at all costs. The super high,I Dream of Jeannielook was my go-to.
Then I retrieved tomorrow’s outfit choices. By the time I was finished arranging my dresses and bodysuits over the bed so I could see everything at once, analyzing what my best option might be—they were all black, a career necessity—I hadn’t even realized my phone had pinged to let me know my food had been delivered six minutes ago.
Not many things made me giddy, but a fresh piece of garlic naan smothered in tikka masala sauce absolutely did. I was grinning when I pulled the bag into my room and ripped open the stapled-over top, setting the container of chicken on the desk. This might be the highlight of my young life so far. A fancy San Francisco hotel room with my favorite Indian food the night before I was to meet Rhett Myers. Could someone pinch me already?
The array of spices and garlic hit my nose in a familiar, tantalizing wave, and I reached for the sauce, but my hand jerked to a stop and my heart quit pumping. Squinting, I tried to imagine that the word scribbled on top of my plastic to-go container said something other thanspicy.
I hadn’t ordered spicy tikka masala. In fact, I recalled specifically double-checking that my finger hadn’t accidentally swiped the hot or spicy options like I’d done in the past. I was a strictly mild girl when it came to my food. The barest hint of spice, and my throat burned and eyes watered. I went from normal to puffy red eyes and a faucet nose in two bites flat. I could not handle my spice.
I ripped off the receipt and searched for the name. Yep, not my name. The slip clearly readAxl Rose. I’m sorry, but really? They must have mixed my order up with some bored teenager giving fake names for laughs.
Dialing the number of the restaurant, I checked my rice and naan, but both of them were correct—basmati and garlic.
“Torch of India, how may I help you?”
“I just had a meal delivered to the Ritz, and you gave me spicy tikka masala when I ordered mild. The ticket says Axl Rose, but that’s not my name.” I tried to tamp my inflated pride when I mentioned my hotel. I mean, it would never happen again, so I might as well enjoy this luxury while I had it. I wondered briefly if I could return to my room after the talk show tomorrow and enjoy the place until checkout time.
“Oh no, oh no,” the woman said, sounding flustered. “Your name?”
“Beth Parker.”
