Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Finally, I type:
Hey you—good morning. Not sure if you have seen the news but the media is having a field day with photos of us from last night. Wanna chat about it?
Austin: I was wondering when you were going to reach out ha ha. I wasn’t about to start whining about it first.
Gio: I just ended a call with my publicist—she said to sit tight. She’s going to issue a statement and then we’re going to let the story die down.
Austin: It’s that simple?
No, not always. But fingers crossed…
Gio: Usually? Should blow over in a day or two as long as I don’t do more stupid shit.
Austin: What are our options? I mean, obviously I’m not famous but it’s not like my face was blurred out. I’m so visible it’s horrifying! I look SO FUGLY lol
Gio: What’s fugly??
Austin: Fucking ugly.
Gio: Oh LOL. Did not know that, and no you do not.
Austin: Oh, I do. It’s a fact. I’ve looked at the photos. The camera caught me mid-blink, and my mouth was hanging open like I’m getting ready to give a blow job.
I ignore that last comment—though I’m dying to respond to it.
Gio: I don’t know what pictures you’re looking at, but the ones I’ve seen you look fine. BETTER than fine.
Adorable. Cute. Fun.
Austin: Lies. But thank you for saying so.
Gio: Not lies. Just facts.
Austin: Yeah, well, tell that to the people on Twitter. I made the mistake of reading the comments, and now I’m emotionally scarred for life.
Gio: Rule number one: NEVER READ THE COMMENTS. Rookie mistake.
Austin: I’m so seriously butt-hurt right now and never want to leave my house. One woman said I look like your “dorky cousin” who is so far beneath you it’s laughable.
Gio: My dorky cousin? Wow. Harsh.
Austin: Like, not just a cousin. The DORKY one.
Gio: First of all, I don’t even have a dorky cousin. I have three cousins total and all of them are male.
Austin: That’s what you’re focusing on? The cousin part—not the part where I’m so far beneath you?? Shit.
Gio: Yes, Yes, because the cousin thing is ridiculous. You’re not “beneath” anyone. Especially not me.
At least not yet…
Austin: You say that, but Twitter begs to differ.
Gio: STAY OFF TWITTER. It thinks the moon landing was fake and pineapple on pizza is a crime. Not a reliable source.
Austin: You’re really defending pineapple on pizza at a time like this?
Gio: I’m just saying, Twitter’s full of bad takes!!!! FOCUS.
Austin: I mean, pineapple pizza is a crime against humanity but whatever….
Gio: I regret nothing. You’re awesome, Twitter is trash, and I will die on this hill. WE RIDE AT DAWN.
Austin: Are you going to come hide out with me now? Is that the next step?
Gio: Er. I doubt we have to hide out…
Austin: I mean. It sounds fun though, doesn’t it?
Gio: Maybe we meet at Five Alarm and plan our course of action.
Austin: Hmm. I guess I could eat.
Austin: Is your sister coming?
Gio: Fuck no!
Two hours later I’m walking into the bar.
She’s standing at the counter, waiting for someone—waiting for me—and for the second time this week, I stroll into an establishment I’ve only set foot in once in the three years I’ve lived at the end of the block. The place is busy, a low hum of conversations blending with the faint sound of the playlist over the speakers.
It’s dimly lit; the kind of place where you don’t come to be seen.
You come for privacy. Good drinks.
Better food.
I observe her a few moments before walking over.
Austin is facing the counter, back to most of the room, chatting with the same bartender that was here the other night. Her posture is relaxed—but I notice the subtle shift of her weight, the way her hand fidgets slightly against the counter.
She’s nervous? Or maybe I’m imagining it.
She shifts her weight again, glancing over her shoulder like she knows I’m here. Her face is calm, but I catch a flicker of something in her expression—relief? Annoyance? Maybe both. Her lips curve into a faint smile, enough to let me know she’s spotted me.
I take a breath and start walking toward her, weaving between tables and barstools. With every step, I tell myself to play it cool, to act like I’m not ridiculously aware of how every guy in this bar is probably noticing her too.
By the time I reach her, she’s turned fully to face me, her hand tucked into the pocket of her jacket.
“Hey you.” She greets me with a big smile. “Man of the hour has arrived.”
“You forgot to roll out the red carpet.” I smirk.
She tilts her head slightly, glancing up at me. “You seem surprisingly calm for someone whose face is all over the internet right now.”
“I am,” I say with a shrug. “You get used to it.”
“That sucks.” Her eyebrows raise slightly, glancing up at me again, smile a tad snarky. “I didn’t realize how tall you are.”