angel monarch, a world famous poet, gets asked to help write a song with finneas o'connell and billie eilish after moving to new york. the only problem is, angel's identity is hidden.
writing a song proves pretty difficult but they make it work.
o...
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if there was one thing in the world I thought id be doing today it certainly wasn't pacing around my room attempting to hold myself together.
let me explain.
it was your average Thursday, I went to see Lisa and told Cara I was at the library, published the webpage and announced it on my social media.
id briefly messaged Billie but her messages weren't the best today. since i've had her number we'd been texting almost all day, every day but I cant really expect her to talk to me all the time.
Gabby, you're forgetting the part where she's a world famous celebrity and definitely has way more important people to talk about other than you.
anyways, I was sat with cara while we were eating the chicken stir fry I'd made when she got a text and her face lit up.
"oh my god it's Harrison"
"is he okay?" I asked, carefully spooning a mouthful of noodles into my mouth. i've been trying to control my eating, but no-one needed to know about that.
"yeah one sec" she tapped away on her phone, throwing a piece of chicken into her mouth and smiling.
"okay so it's the movie premiere tonight in New York, and Harry is staring in it so he flew here two days ago and wants to come and see me because he finally has some time"
I choked on my noodles.
no fucking way.
Harrison.
Here?
in this apartment?
at the same time as me?
"I don't have to like be here do I?"
"come on" Cara whined "he won't be long because he'll have to get ready and be famous and shit but he really wants to meet you"
"I love you Cara but I'd rather throw myself off the balcony"
"don't be so dramatic" she rolled her eyes "he's not like a typical celebrity I promise, you like won't even notice"
I won't notice?
is she blind?
he looks likes he's been carved from the gods.
even my gay ass thinks he's attractive.
anyways-
"no no its not him, its me"
"what do you mean?" she eyes me quizzically
"I look like this" I pointed, gesturing to my body.
"you think he cares? you're beautiful whatever you're wearing"
"I don't mean my clothes"
she seemed to think for a moment before gasping. "fuck all the way off Gabrielle, i'm serious you're so beautiful, he won't care whether you're size 2 or 22 and neither do I. I promise"
