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Asher
Iam still hungover from our night out but incredibly happy about our threesome. The night that we had out together was so awesome, I could think of nothing else. As soon as I step into the shower, I hear the doorbell ring. I stop the water and wrap myself in a towel.
When I got to the door, I looked out the peephole and there was Samantha. It was a happy surprise that she was at my door. Perhaps she would want to join me in the shower? I open the door to find her crying.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure, come on in.”
Samantha came into my house, and I shut the door behind her. I could tell that she was a mess of emotions. She certainly wasn’t herself. I put my arms around her. I could feel her wet tears on my shoulder as she begins to sob.
“It’s all right,” I say.
That only makes Samantha sob harder.
“Should I call Liam?” I ask.
“Yes,” Samantha mumbles between sobs.
“Let’s go sit on the sofa.”
Samantha reluctantly lets go of me. I take her hand and we walk to the sofa. She sits on the edge of the sofa and tries not to cry. I pick up my phone from the coffee table and call Liam. He answers on the third ring, and I tell him to get over to my house as fast as he can.
“Let me go get dressed,” I tell Samantha.
“Okay, don’t leave me for too long.”
“I won’t.”
I go to my bedroom and put on a t-shirt and jeans. Then, I go to the kitchen and pour some water into a glass and take it out to Samantha. She takes it and drinks it down in one gulp. I take the glass from her and place it on the coffee table. The doorbell rings and I go to let Liam in.
“What’s going on?” Liam asks.
“I don’t know but Sam is really upset.”
We go to the living room and when Samantha sees Liam, she starts to cry again.
We sit by Samantha on the sofa. Liam sits on her left and I sit on her right.
“What’s wrong Sam? Please tell us,” I beg.
“It’s my dad. He had a massive temper tantrum over my trip to New York.”
“What did he say?” Liam asks.
“He knows about everything that happened in New York.”
“How?” I ask.
“The paparazzi got our whole night on camera.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t pay attention usually because there are always paparazzi everywhere in New York. My publicist says it’s good for my career, so I never care that they are taking pictures of everything.”
“Oh my, what pictures did they get of us?”
