“It’s the paparazzi.”
We’re stuck.
We can’t move.
Everyone is like standing cattle in here, getting pushed and shoved. And at this moment, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to have this many people in a building. And to make matters worse, everyone wants to snap as many videos and pictures of us as they can.
“Amelia! How do your brothers feel about your relationship with their rival?” a man shouts, pushing his way through the crowd to get closer to us with his stupid camera pointed in our direction.
This is the worst scenario for people like Amelia and me.
“Are they mad that you’re dating?!”
“Do you have anything to say to your fans about your new relationship?”
“Look over here, guys!”
I push our bodies further into the crowd, hoping to reach the restrooms sooner rather than later. Because I know Amelia has completely shut down. I’ve seen online that she hates interactions with the paparazzi, yet I never thought I would have to experience her anxiety in person.
Seeing the glossy look in her eyes, knowing she’s about to cry, is like a knife stabbing into my heart and being twisted. I hate when I see girls cry, but seeing the sunshine girl, who doesn’t seem as happy as she portrays herself to be, melt down in front of hundreds of people doesn’t hurt me; itkillsme. Instead of pushing away that scary feeling I haven’t felt in a long time, I’m going to embrace it. I’m going to help her, fill her with relief and comfort.
“Amelia! Everyone knows you have an eating disorder. Care to share your struggles and advice?”
I feel her crumple against me as the club seems to quiet after that bold statement. Everyone in this building looks directly at the one girl who doesn’t want any attention at all, but she’s getting the most.
A tear rolls down her cheek as she tries to hide her face. I’m not sure if she does struggle with her body image. However, I’ve now made a promise to myself that with every bite and full meal she eats, I will be there, cheering her on. I’ll hold her hair back on the hard days. I’ll make her favorite foods and dance with her in the kitchen as we cook. I’ll get rid of every single damn scale and mirror in the entire world if that makes her happy.
I just want her to loveherselfbecause no one deserves to hate the one person who really matters.Themself.
“What the fuck did you just say to my girl?” I sneer at the man in front of me, seeing red, just as security finds their way to us and ushers Amelia away. They grab my arms, but I shove them off. My eyes never leaving the sick bastard in front of me.
“I asked an honest question that millions of people wonder about!” He tries to defend himself, but he only digs his own grave.
“So, you humiliate her? Tell me, what do you really get from that?” Grabbing his camera lens that he points in my face, I picture crushing it beneath my palm.
“I just wanted to help people around the world, man! Anyone will listen to her. She’s a Drakos!” he stutters, looking panicked.
I don’t care that hundreds of people are watching and filming this entire interaction. I yank his camera and smash it onto the ground. I almost smile when I feel the crunch beneath my boot and see pieces flying in the air. I step on the pieces and fist his collar.
“If you ever”—I tighten my hold on his shirt when he tries to pull away and get in his face—“purposely embarrass a girl, especiallymygirl, for the benefit of money and fame again, you’d better run and hope I don’t find you. Because I’m willing to sacrifice everything.” My grin is practically wicked when I feel his body shaking in fear. “And I mean, everything.”
Pushing him off of me and watching him fall to the floor before running off, I feel cold, almost heartless, as I make my way to where Amelia disappeared. I hear people gasping behind me, and it only angers me more.
How could they stand there and allow the shit that came out of his mouth?
I need to calm down because moments like this only lead to craving my one desire.Alcohol.
“Where is she?” I ask a security guard once I reach a quiet space in the club.
He swallows tightly, refusing to make eye contact with me. “She’s in the restroom, sir.”
Why the fuck isn’t he looking me in my eyes?
Inching closer to the closed door, I reply, “Is there anyone else in there?”
“No, but that’s the girls’ rest—” He abruptly stops mid-sentence when he sees the death glare on my face.
At least someone has made a good decision today.
