Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“…Rhys?” Alyssa’s voice is quiet, almost at a whisper, and coming from somewhere right behind my shoulder. “Is that…is that you?”
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I freeze in front of the room’s door, debating whether or not I should just disappear inside and pretend like I’d never heard her say my name.
“Rhys, what are you doing here?” Alyssa presses, before she lets out a knowing hmm. “Oh, wait. Are you here for the songwriting symposium, too? Did Gregory turn it into a full-band activity?”
“…You called it.” I nervously chuckle as I turn back around to face her. “It was…all Gregory. He wanted everyone to come up for the weekend. Van must’ve really made it sound like an…amazing opportunity.”
Surprisingly, there’s a look of relief on Alyssa’s expression. “Great! That’s perfect.”
That’s perfect.
I can’t help but smile at her response, taking it as a sign that she hadn’t exactly been looking forward to spending so much time alone with Van this weekend.
“Hey, if you ever want to come over to my room, just to compare notes or whatever, my door’s always open—” I start, feeling a grin already spreading across my features.
And Alyssa backs away from me in return. “Uh… yeah. I’ll see you around, Rhys.”
“Right. I’ll see you around.” I offer her a casual wave as she heads down a different fork of the hallway, and everything in me beginning to fold like a house of cards.
“Do you think this whole thing is cheaper than just going to therapy?” Cameron ponders out loud while we’re sitting in on one of the afternoon’s songwriting sessions.
I hear every word he’s saying, but it’s going in one ear and out the other, my attention lingering on Van and Alyssa sitting on the other side of the room, their heads so close together they might as well be making out in front of me. They’ve been laughing and smiling at each other ever since the session started, with Alyssa seeming to playfully doodle something on Van’s lyric sheet whenever he’d looked up at the main speaker.
And I roll my eyes at their very public displays of affection, wondering just how long Alyssa has had a crush on Van, how long she’s been vying for some of his attention. It’s aggravating every part of me, having to pretend like I don’t want to go over to their table and sweep Alyssa right off her feet, get her to take me back right before taking her up to my hotel room.
“…What the hell are you doing here?” Van is now standing right in front of our table, peering down at Cam and me with fire behind his eyes.
Shit.
I must’ve been so taken with daydreaming about what I wanted to do with Alyssa that I hadn’t noticed him walk over to us.
“I’m just here for the songwriting sessions—” I lie.
And Van immediately cuts me off. “For fuck’s sake, since when do you give a damn about songwriting, Rhys? I’ve been going to this thing for years, and you haven’t found your way to it once.”
“Yeah, but we’re supposed to be, like, trying to be a legitimate band now, right?” I keep going with the lie. “So, it just makes sense that Cameron and I join in on the party this time around—”
“Rhys wanted to follow you here because he thinks you’re trying to make a move on Alyssa,” Cameron interjects, his tone completely detached. “He dragged me into it too, but trust me. I couldn’t care less about what’s going on between you and Alyssa. I just want to make sure he’s not going to do anything monumentally stupid.”
“There isn’t anything going on between me and Alyssa,” Van replies, but his words come out shaky, like he’s the one who’s lying now. “And even if there were, how is that any of your business? You think just because she slept with you that you own her or something?”
“No, and you know that.” I scoff dramatically. “I don’t associate ownership in the same realm as romance, but I know that I can’t say the same for you, and maybe that’s why I don’t want her getting involved in your bullshit—”
“In my bullshit?” Van raises his voice. “Fuck you, Rhys! You’ve slept with practically every girl in fucking L.A.! Who the hell are you to talk to me about anything in the realm of romance—”
“At least I go for what I want!” I shoot right back. “At least I’m not too afraid to try and follow my bloody heart! But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, arsehole?”
“You two might want to lower your voices,” Cameron suggests. “That security guard in the corner is starting to eye us pretty hard, and I think he might have a taser—”
“I just don’t get you, Rhys,” Van continues. “I don’t get why you have to have everything. I don’t get why even the mere thought of someone having something you want turns you into such an unrecognizable piece of—”