"TWENTY QUESTIONS?"
My life is shit. Through the glamour and bliss was a person full of shit with a terrible personality and a handful amount of regrets.
This stupid town was making me realize that.
When Clint suggested the twenty questions, thoughts on playing the stupid game crossed my mind.
Twenty questions. All of which could lower my pride if I was to be asked the wrong one.
But. I could use that opportunity to ask him anything I wanted to know.
Like his deal with that girl, Ashley-Anne.
I quickly said. "I'll go first."
Clint shrugged and I asked the first question without much thought. "You and Ashley-Anne, is she your bird?"
Clint gave me an incredulous look, his eyebrows creased in confusion. "My what?"
Right. Americans.
I prompted. "Your girlfriend?"
I unconsciously clenched my fists as I said so.
Clint scoffed. "Ashley is not my girlfriend."
Then he started to chuckle lightly as if he couldn't comprehend the idea. "Who gave you that impression?"
"Oh, nothing," I said, batting my eyelashes. "Your turn, Clint."
For some reason, my chest eased up.
His lips tugged into a small smile before looked at the clear sky. "What was your first impression of me?"
"An arse," I said, without hesitation although I held up a small, bashful smile.
Clint chuckled.
I grinned knowingly. "What was your first impression of me?"
"Annoying, spoilt, loudmouth, and very stubborn."
Ouch.
That certainly hurt more than it should. I would be a hypocrite to say that but weren't we all.
I didn't understand how I could be all that at once. I was relatively a nice person.
Suddenly, Clint's voice because serious, breaking me from my reverie. "I wanted to know something," He said. "That guy—Scott Williams, do you still like him?"
I inwardly sighed.
Scott. That bastard. The idiot who ruined me.
Scott undoubtedly, at that time was the best person I could ever have. I loved him. I truly did.
The only problem was; he was nine years older than me.
That was a huge age gap and I was scared of what the media would think. So, me being the coward I was, I opted for us to date in secret.
All was going in a breeze when all of a sudden, an anonymous person leaked pictures of us.
It took off everywhere on the tabloids, of us sharing intimate and sensual moments.
Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, I found out Scott had another girlfriend of over six years with a child.
A bloody child. A walking three-year-old baby girl.
Scott's girlfriend didn't know of 'us'
So with a baby, an arse of a boyfriend, and unsolicited pictures on the internet, I was a hot mess.
Everyone ignored the fact that the bastard was at fault too;
Keeping a fucking child of his own a secret from his family, cheating on two of his 'girlfriends', and me being the center of the dilemma, I got it worse.
For some reason, Scott was completely ignored and all the attention was drawn to me. I was fucked.
The lad screwed me over.
"No," I said to Clint, confidence oozing from my lips. I balled my fists together.
At that time, I vowed to find whoever took those pictures. But I gave up, knowing it was useless.
I didn't realize my head was ducked down low in shame.
My eyes were dried. I wanted to cry, I wish I could cry so that I could feel better about myself.
But my tears were all dried up. I haven't cried in years. I just bottled up the pain and smiled.
A very convincing smile.
So, that is what I did when I looked at Clint. I smiled. "You hungry? Let's go, I'm hungry."
And it was a very convincing smile.
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