Their Paid Girl

Their Paid Girl - Part 21

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS UNEXPECTED MUSHINESS, UNNECESSARY TENSION AND EXPLICIT EMOTION. IF THE FEELINGS GET TOO MUCH FOR YOU, FEEL FREE TO VENT OUT YOUR OWN EMOTIONS IN THE COMMENT SECTION BELOW**

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          It had taken five different people and a whole lot of resentful looks to finally get directions to Joel’s dorm room. When I finally set off, I distinctly heard the leader of the group of girls mutter slut under her breath.

          I pretended I didn’t hear them until I rounded the corner; then I glanced down at what I was wearing. Jeans and a striped sweater – and no make-up whatsoever today. If anything, I was definitely much easier to be mistaken for a nerd than a slut.

          Reputations travel ahead of you, the little voice in my head nagged at me. I scowled and thrust my chin up in the air, stalking off towards apartment number 41.

          As I neared, I could hear a familiar song reaching out from behind the closed door.

…'Cuz we lost it all, 
Nothing lasts forever,
I'm sorry, I can't be perfect.
Now it's just too late, 
And we can't go back,
I'm sorry I can't be perfect…

The words I’d once known by heart jabbed at my chest and I stood there, alone in the empty corridor, listening to the heart-breaking lyrics. How many times had I listened to this song, keeping it on replay, stubbornly fighting back tears as I drove, walked, worked, lived?

I wondered what on earth Joel was doing, listening to a song like this one. I’d always assumed that he was the golden boy of his rich family – he was always so confident in his quiet manner that people were naturally drawn to him. To him and Adam. But as the words kept repeating, I’m sorry I can’t be perfect, a singular thought struck me.

Perhaps, in some way, all of us are the same. As poor as I’d been my entire life, as rich as Joel had been all of his, we still want and live for the same things. Love for people that mean the world to us, a desire to be loved and accepted for who we are – ultimately, it’s all that matters, and you can find acceptance and understanding in the unlikeliest of places.

Like Joel.

But just as I finished thinking this, a voice – not Joel’s – sounded from inside.

“Dude, can you turn that crap off?” I heard a thump and some shuffling and the song got cut off. I heard a loud sigh and a sound like bedsprings creaking.

Hesitantly, I lifted a hand and knocked.

“Come in,” someone grunted and I twisted the knob. The door swung open to reveal a tousled and pissed-looking Joel sprawled on a messy bed. A shirtless guy sat on a swivelling chair, staring at me with his mouth open.

Joel caught sight of me and literally jumped upright at the same moment that his roommate sprung to his feet.

“Gotta go,” said the shirtless guy without preamble, and booked it for the door.

Confused, I turned to see a shocked Joel still standing by his bed. A beat of awkward silence stretched between us before both of us tried to speak at the same time.

“Shawna—”

“Um, Joel—”

“Yeah?” both of us asked each other before chuckling nervously.

For some reason, I suspected that my cheeks were pink. “Sorry for bothering you here,” I stated finally.

“Yeah, no, I mean, it’s fine,” Joel assured me, uncomfortably running his hand through messy golden hair. He glanced at me. “It’s because of Ferrell, isn’t it?”