Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“Well you don’t need to worry about that guy. I can’t even see him, he’s so far away.”
We walk silently until we get to the park.
“I’m sorry, I’m just tense. That guy freaked me out. Thank you for being so patient with me.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“You probably don’t want to hear about my ex, but he was the one who was paranoid about being papped or spotted by someone who’d message DeuxMoi. He used to say he was protecting his privacy, so I learned to be wary on his behalf. And now look at me.”
“Hang on—I thought he was leaking stuff to the media. You think that’s why he didn’t want to get spotted? In case they let on they knew him? Or like…he didn’t want to dilute the value of the shots he arranged by allowing unplanned photos?”
We get under the canopy of trees in the park where Vivian always seems to relax a little. “I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe he wasn’t stressed about getting spotted, but he was hungry for it. You know?”
“Hyped,” I say to confirm what she’s saying. “If that’s the case, he’s not going to like being single. No one will want his picture now.”
“Right,” she replies.
“Has he tried to win you back?” I ask.
She narrows her eyes. “I think he called right after it happened, but everything was such a blur. Oh yes, he wanted my engagement ring back.” She laughs—it’s a sad sound and doesn’t suit her. “I sold it the same day. I paid for the damn thing, after all.”
“At least you get to write the breakup album.”
Her expression turns serious. “I won’t waste another note on him.”
She looks so wounded. I want to scoop her up and make it better. The best thing I can do is change the subject.
“Can you write a song when it doesn’t feel personal to you?” I’m fascinated by her job. The entire Cove family revolves around medicine—or at least, it did when me and my brothers were growing up. But for Vivian, that passion was music. It was so different from my world.
She taps her finger on the white lid of her coffee cup. “No, but that doesn’t mean the song has to be about me and whatever I’m experiencing—although a lot of my songs are. If I read a book or watch a movie that moves me, I can put myself in the main character’s shoes and write a song based on that point of view. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, that’s cool. You get to watch films and listen to music and claim it’s your job.”
She laughs. “I suppose so. But it’s possible to find inspiration in all sorts of things.”
“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever taken inspiration from?” I ask.
She looks away from me. “I was stuck in traffic in LA once and I used it as a metaphor for being stuck in a rut in—” She pauses, and I get the feeling she’s putting bits and pieces together in her head. “You know, being stuck in life.”
“I like that. Does that mean you’re looking for inspiration the entire time or do you have to say to yourself, ‘can I take inspiration from my trip to the coffee shop today?’”
She smiles and blushes and she looks lighter than before. Like she’s enjoying herself. “Both.”
We walk slowly along the path. The leaves have shifted from green to yellow over the weekend and I wonder if that’s a metaphor that could be used in a song. Perhaps something about the passing of time, the beginning of the end of a relationship or phase in life.
“Did you ever answer your manager’s call?” I ask.
She groans. “Not yet. I’m enjoying the bubble I’m in right now. I’m not ready for it to pop.”
“Can I ask who was on the list?” I ask. “Leonardo DiCaprio?”
“Not sure I’m young enough for Leo,” she says, and I almost laugh before I realize she’s completely serious. Gross.
“You know I’d be happy to be your fake boyfriend.” I don’t want to be pushy, but I don’t want her to get hurt again, and the only way I can make sure it doesn’t happen is to fill the role myself. Neither of us is looking to start something serious, so it seems the perfect solution: I like spending time with her, but don’t actually want to be anyone’s boyfriend. I don’t think I’ll ever want that. Coral made sure of it.
“You’re sweet,” she says, grinning up at me.
“You’re beautiful,” I say. She’s really breathtakingly gorgeous, but she has a sweetness in her that makes me want more of her.
“You’re cute,” she says. “It’s the dimples.”
I pull my eyebrows together. “I don’t have dimples.”
“You totally do.” She prods at my cheek and I revel in her touch. “There, and—” I catch her hand before she can prod me again and slide my fingers through hers.