No one needs access to an entire page dedicated to hoping I’ll update the world on what I’m eating, or how I’m feeling, or where I am every minute of the day.
I nod my head. “How many more do we have?”
I click the button on my phone, so it lights up the screen, seeing it’s already four o’clock. Still no text. Or call.
“Just one more stop today,” she replies. “But you have dinner with a fan tonight.”
Which means I can’t have dinner with Rachel. And I’d much prefer a repeat of last night over whatever stuffy restaurant a crazed fan has paid an exorbitant amount of money for just to share conversation over plates of food that are more like samples than an actual meal.
“What time is that?” I ask.
I’ve learned not to argue with Melanie’s detailed schedules. My job is to write the books, and her job is to make sure they sell, which means I’m responsible for doing whatever she tells me to do, although I have drawn the line a few times, including an idea where Melanie had wanted to auction me off to the highest bidder for a weekend getaway.
Dinners are fine. Being forced to spend an entire weekend with whoever has enough money to buy me is insane.
“Seven. Enough time for you to freshen up after this next stop and be ready,” Melanie answers.
And most likely, it won’t be enough time to see Rachel.
I pull out my phone, fumbling with the keys trying to figure out what to text her that won't make me seem desperate. Like I’m just checking in, not missing her. Because I’m not missing her. It’s too soon to miss her, right?
Evan
Were your taste buds convinced?
The dots come alive on my screen. I hold the phone tight, anticipating her reply. Then they disappear, and I feel my heart dip as if it had come to the surface to peek at the screen, too. Then, the dots are blinking before they are gone again.
This is ridiculous. I feel like a lovesick teenager, not a grown man attempting to flirt.
Finally, the dots remain until her message pops up in a bubble.
Rachel
It seems the latte has swayed a small population but not enough to swing the vote. I think it’ll take a few more. And fortunately, they are ignorant of the fact that you sent the latte, or else I would stand no chance.
A smile stretches out on my face remembering how she had detailed her taco dating fiasco last night. The way her hair tumbled around her face and shoulders. How her red satin strap had continued to slip and eventually just remained hanging off her shoulder. She hadn’t seemed to care that her appearance was slowly becoming disarrayed. Her eyes had been bright, and her face was animated as she detailed out Roy’s tongue going in for the intrusive French kiss that Rachel hadn’t been expecting.
I didn’t even mind when she slipped out of her shoes as she pushed her feet into the concrete, stretching them. I found it cute.
Evan
So, what exactly happens if you can’t convince them, and they like me more than you?
The dots appear, disappear, and reappear repeatedly until finally…
Rachel
Might take something stronger than a latte. Drinks later?
“Who are you texting?” Melanie interrupts my thoughts that are somewhere between wondering what dress Rachel will wear for drinks and if she’s asking me out.
Although, Ithinkwe were on a date last night. I’m not completely sure. I didn’t exactly ask, but I also didn’t say it wasn’t.
“It’s just Rachel,” I say. “Who is the dinner with tonight?”
The car suddenly slows and swerves to the side, stopping in front of a large Barnes and Noble.
“Her name is Madison, twenty-four, budding country star according to her profile,” Melanie rattles off, looking down at her own phone.
