Second Chances [On Hold]

Chapter 5

Cover made by MSDoOD

***

I was about ready to dial Christian’s number, when I realized I shouldn’t be taking this out on Christian—again. I should be taking it out on him for writing that piece of garbage, and expecting me to actually make that comprehensible and likeable to readers. Because, right now if that book gets published with no help whatsoever, instead of screaming fangirls, he would be the one screaming and running for his life from them. Okay...so that’s probably not going to happen, but a girl could dream, right?

        But, since I hated him, and I refuse to even contact him on my own, Christian being my manager, will have to deal with it. As my thumb hovered over the keypad on my screen, I started picturing our conversation in my head. Knowing how Christian and I were with each other, I’ll probably be screaming at him, and he’ll probably be blubbering “I didn’t know” and “it's not my fault Liam can’t write” and then I’ll probably get a migraine from all that yelling. Plus, I think I did enough yelling for the past two days to last me a lifetime. And that hit to my forehead earlier today was not helping the situation either. Curse him for not even knowing someone was on the other side of the damn door! Like, seriously! Isn’t it like common courtesy to I don’t know, knock first!?

        Taking a deep breath, I decided in the end to save myself some trouble, and turn my phone off. I can deal with his crappy writing when I absolutely needed to—translation—whenever I felt like it. Because right now, I just need some well deserve sleep, and, boy do I need it.

                                                                ***

In about four hours, I was waking up feeling rejuvenated, and ready for the day. Or what was left of it, anyways. Giving my arms a long needed stretch, I heard my muscles cracking. Dragging my body lazily out of bed, I walked towards Mr. Nibble.  

        “Good afternoon, Mr. Nibble.” I tapped the glass, getting his attention. He ran towards my finger, sniffing the air for a second, before he went back to chewing on a piece of fruit I’d given him before I left my apartment this morning.

        I giggled. Typical Mr. Nibble. Sometimes I think he loves his food more than me. But then, if it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t get his precious food every morning, afternoon and night, so of course by defult, he has to love me more.

        Leaning closely towards the glass, I smiled. “I’ll see you later. Be good, okay?” I whispered softly, grinning happily at him.

         I gave him one last look, before I made my way to the kitchen. Grabbing a delicious looking muffin from it’s container off the island table, I took a large bit out of it before heading towards my fridge. As my hand grasp the cool metal, I reached in for a bottle of water, feeling the cold chill air. I let my face linger for a second, before kicking the fridge closed with the heel of my foot.

        With my bottle and muffin in hand, I ate my snack slowly, savoring the moist delectable delight. When I finished the last bit of it—down to the tiniest of crumbs, I drowned a mouthful of water down my throat. I then sat the bottle down, and threw the wrapper away in the trash.

         Smacking my lips together, I licked them clean. “Gosh, I need to get my mom to make me more of these awesome muffins!”

        I was about to head over to my mom’s shop, to, one: get more bake goods, and two: to see my mom when I realized I probably looked like an ugly bat right now. Lifting my hands up to my mouth, I breathed into it, smelling my breath.