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Cora
Sleeplessness has become a plague since Gavin walked through those banquet doors two days ago. When my head hit the pillow last night, my body melted against the sheets as exhaustion radiated in my bones. Luna curled up beside me, her purr fading as she drifted to sleep.
With heavy eyes, my lids closed. Just as my body began hitting solid sleep, my phone wailed on my
dresser. I shot up as worry flooded me. My Do Not Disturb mode set and only select people could break through the function.
When I answered the phone in a groggy voice, Shelly instantly apologized. She had called on a whim, wanting to hang out but not knowing I had gone to bed early. I asked her why she really called and she told me we could talk about it in the morning.
But I was exhausted and angry and allowed my frustrations to sneak out and snap at her. Two minutes of apology later—and zero information as to why she called—and we agreed to talk tomorrow. Several times, she had done this to me and the conversation consisted of nothing significant. But I was a good friend and I let it slide.
Unfortunate for me, sleep didn’t creep up as easily after as it did before her disruption.
I laid in my bed until two-thirty in the morning, thinking about the rough texture of Gavin’s hands when they were on me earlier. And the words he whispered to me, I listened to them on a loop in my head, trying to decipher what exactly he was saying.
Were his words genuine? Did he just say those things to get into my pants? Or is it all a load of bullshit?
I felt clueless, and the lack of sleep didn’t help the situation. There had to be some hidden meaning behind it. There just had to be. In the wee hours of the morning, I convinced myself Gavin had an ulterior motive.
After hours of watching the ceiling fan spin circles above me, my body relaxed enough and I fell asleep.
My alarm startles me awake at six forty-five and I slap the beast, groaning and cursing the universe. A little more than four hours of sleep won’t get me far today. Not after having five and a half the night before.
I cannot live like this. Anyone glancing my way today will surely do a double take—because my resemblance to a zombie will be uncanny—and whisper behind my back. Honestly, I give no fucks.
Luna paws at my face, meowing and purring. “At least one of us gets sleep,” I grumble as I run a hand over her soft fur.
She rubs her face along my cheek, silently asking me to get up and give her breakfast. Shoving the comforter to my waist, I huff and scoot up to a sitting position. Luna meows her excitement, jumps off the bed, and trots out of the bedroom. I follow behind her, walking half alert to the kitchen. Thankfully, this part of the morning routine requires no brainpower.
One scoop of food and a few pets later, Luna purrs like a champ while she eats. I wish my morning could be so simple. Wake up whenever, disturb my parental, make them feed me, then go about my day. If only…
I head for the bathroom and jerk back when I see myself in the mirror.
Hot. Fucking. Mess.
A hot shower and a smear of makeup can only do so much. By the looks of it, I need a couple bottles of concealer. Fingers crossed I can perform miracles and mask the dark half-moons under my eyes. Lord, help me.
After my shower, I dress and do my makeup, adding more concealer than normal. Not two bottles worth, but enough to feel like I now have three additional layers of skin. I snag my phone from the charger and sift through my notifications while I eat a quick breakfast.
One of the first alerts I see… an email from Alyson Jameson, Gavin’s agent. Emails in the middle of a shoot gives me hives. Especially after the comment Gavin made yesterday about one of Alyson’s prior clients.
My finger taps on the notification and my email opens. Eyes scanning the email, I read the message twice, making sure I read and decipher it accurately.
Ms. Davies,
I would like to extend a personal thank you for your time. Sorry I missed yesterday’s photo shoot due to circumstances I couldn’t prevent. Today is a new day.
Tonight, we would like to sit down with you and talk about the remaining days. Please join us for dinner at the Island Way Grill at six thirty p.m.
Cordially,
Alyson Jameson
Why is she calling a dinner meeting to discuss the photo shoot? Seems odd. The itinerary is written and has been reviewed countless times before this week. By myself, the agent, and the company.
Shit.
Did she see me and Gavin last night in the parking lot? Not that there was anything noteworthy. Nothing inappropriate or unprofessional occurred. But that is the only possible reason I can think of as to why she is requesting I meet with them for dinner.
