"If you are what you say you are, a superstar. Then have no fear, the camera's here. And the microphones. And they wanna know-oh-oh-oh, yeah," I sing on top of the bed, again trying to wake up Jack like almost every two days.
The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room as I stand on top of the bed, belting out the lyrics of "Superstar" with infectious energy. The rhythm of the music pulsed through my veins, adding a lively cadence to my enthusiastic serenade. The room seemed to come alive with the beat, as if the very walls were grooving along.
I glanced over at Jack, who lay still with a half-open eye, squinting at me in mock annoyance. His disheveled hair and sleepy grin hinted at his resistance to being pulled from the embrace of dreams. Yet, there was a twinkle in his eye, an acknowledgment that he couldn't resist the charm of the impromptu performance.
The lyrics carried a touch of irony that lingered in the air. Jack, once a fervent admirer of Lupe Fiasco's "Superstar," was now living the lyrics as a real superstar. The camera crew, microphones, and the relentless pursuit of fame were his daily companions. I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy, a mix of admiration and yearning for the world he now effortlessly inhabited.
The irony wasn't lost on me – the fact that Jack, the one who had always loved "Superstar" by Lupe Fiasco, was now living out the very essence of the song. The cameras, the microphones, the constant scrutiny – they were all part of his everyday existence as a real superstar. It made me wonder if he had always known, if there had been an unspoken prophecy in the lyrics that he had embraced and fulfilled.
As I continued to sing, the jealousy that lingered in the corners of my mind couldn't be ignored.
Jack lays nestled in the blankets, seemingly impervious to the persistent nudges of the waking world. His disheveled hair framed a face that radiated a blissful ignorance of the morning. As I continued to sing the lyrics of "Superstar" in an attempt to disrupt his slumber, it became apparent that waking him up was going to be an uphill battle.
Jack is not a morning person. He adores sleeping, and in fact, if he could, he would sleep all day long. He has no issues whatsoever falling asleep anywhere, at any time of the day. On the other hand, I have to fight with him to wake him up.
Jumping down off the bed, I sprint to the curtains and eagerly yank them open, allowing the morning light to flood the room. The sunshine spills in, casting a warm and vibrant glow that chases away the remnants of sleep.
This time, I elicit a reaction from him as he chuckles at my impromptu descent from the bed. I catch a glimpse of his hand bouncing up and down to the beat of the music since I just put it on my phone to enhance the auditory experience, knowing full well it sounds better than my karaoke voice.
As he inches closer to waking up, much like every other morning we spend together, I playfully tug on the sheets, gradually revealing his still-slumbering, naked body. The soft morning light accentuates the contours of his form. It's a familiar ritual, a teasing gesture that often brings about a mixture of surprise and laughter.
He rises from the bed, reaching for the clothes he wore the previous night. Like every time he joins me for a friendly activity, it inevitably leads to him spending the night at my place.
Meanwhile, I continue to dance and sing with shades on, stealing glances at myself in the mirror. Surprisingly, I look damn good for a girl who just woke up.
Jack wraps his arms around me from behind, joining in the melody as we continue to sing the song together while gazing into the mirror. The harmonious blend of our voices creates a soundtrack to the shared moments, our reflections capturing the genuine joy and connection that the music and the morning have brought.
As the song comes to an end, we release our hug with genuine laughter resonating in the room. Now, it's my turn to choose an outfit, but comfort takes a backseat this time as I need to get ready for work.
"What does your day look like?" Jack inquires, curiosity evident in his tone as he wonders about the adventures my day has in store.
"It's kind of a chill day, honestly," I reply, contemplating my mental schedule. "I've got two meetings lined up, and then I need to go see the Smiths, and that pretty much wraps up my day," I inform him, offering a glimpse into the blend of work and personal commitments awaiting me. The casual exchange sets the tone for the day, and as I share my plans, I can't help but appreciate the simplicity of our morning routine
I present Jack with two outfit options for the day, one a bit more daring, the other a safe bet for the chilly February weather. He gives the midi skirt a skeptical glance, shaking his head at the impracticality of strutting around in it during the winter freeze. So, with a shrug and a nod, he settles on the navy blue business suit, a practical choice that speaks volumes about his no-nonsense attitude.
As I slip into the tailored suit, I can't help but admire its clean lines and professional air. It's not exactly my usual style, but Jack's insistence on functionality over fashion has its merits, especially when the frosty winds of February come knocking. Buttoning up the jacket, I feel a sense of readiness wash over me, a readiness to tackle whatever the day may throw my way, armed with Jack's pragmatic wardrobe advice.
"You know," Jack remarks with a grin, watching me as I finish getting dressed, "I kinda dig this morning routine we got going on. Makes waking up easier."
I chuckle at his comment, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief. If this is Jack's idea of an "easy" wake-up, I can't help but wonder what his definition of a tough one entails. But hey, if our little morning ritual helps him ease into the day, who am I to argue?
"You do?" I turn to face Jack, the gold earring dangling from my fingertips as his unexpected invitation hangs in the air between us. There's a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, a silent plea for connection that I can't ignore.
"Would you like to come to tonight's game?" His voice carries a hint of anticipation, his hand idly tracing his cheek in a gesture of contemplation.
I pause, the weight of his invitation hanging in the air between us. The idea of stepping beyond the confines of our familiar intimacy gives me pause, stirring a mix of emotions within me. I consider the potential implications of accepting his offer, contemplating the shift it might signify in our relationship.
After a moment of thoughtful reflection, I offer a gentle smile, appreciative of his gesture yet mindful of my own boundaries. "I appreciate the invitation, but I think I'll pass for tonight," I respond, my tone soft but resolute.
Jack's next words carry a bittersweet melody, the weight of impending change casting a shadow over the morning light. "You know, I'm leaving for Vancouver tomorrow," he shares, his voice a solemn echo of the inevitable passage of time.
"Are your parents also coming, since you're facing Quinn?" I inquire with genuine curiosity, as I walk into my kitchen to make myself a quick breakfast. I put yogurt in an empty bowl and garnish it with granola and fruit.
Jack sits at the table, continuing the conversation, "Yeah, even though Luke isn't going to play, they will attend the game." The casual discussion flows between bites of my breakfast.
In silence, I go through my phone answering some emails.
Tomorrow's got me hyped – it's the kickoff for NY Fashion Week, and Eva's got the hookup. She even invited me as her plus one, which is major, but I gotta handle some client paperwork first thing in the morning.
Mid-chew, I catch Jack's heavy sigh across the table. I glance up, finding him lounging back, arms crossed, like he's waiting for something. I lift one of my eyebrow giving him a questioning look.
Sensing his itch for some action, I flash him a sneak peek of the dress I choose for the charity event this week. "I choose a blue dress."
He swipes my phone like it's a reflex, landing on the black dress I'd been eyeing too. Eye-roll alert – I didn't sign up for a surprise swipe fest.
Why do people does that. I'm showing a picture, I don't want you to swipe unnecessary.
"Why not this one?" Jack's eyebrow's furrowed, turning my phone towards me to show me how pretty I look in the black dress. "You look fire in this, like, whoa," he adds, hand over his heart as I take back my phone to look closer at the picture.
His 'fire' sends a ripple of warmth through me, but I play it cool as I zoom in on the pic. He's got a point – I look good in the black dress. Fuck I regret it.
""I was vibing with the black 'cause of its backstory," I explain, taking another bite.
"Yeah, that's what I thought immediately. You didn't want the blue one,"
I get up put my bowl in the dishwasher and turn to face him before answering to his question. "Braden said that I was prettier in the blue one, so of course I choose the blue one."
I dump my bowl in the dishwasher and pivot back to him, ready to dish more deets. "Braden's all, 'You're prettier in blue,' so that sealed the deal," I spill, adding a side of sass.
"Prettier? Whatever you're wearing, you're drop-dead gorgeous. How can he say that?" Jack's irritation is palpable.
I let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through my hair in agitation. "No, but seriously, I regret getting the blue one. And it cost a fortune, too. I don't even like it. I can't believe I let Braden's opinion sway me," I confess, the weight of my decision heavy on my shoulders.
"Yeah, I hate it when you listen to him," Jack chimes in, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
I shoot him a knowing look, a mix of annoyance and amusement dancing in my eyes. "Oh, you're one to talk," I retort, a hint of flirtation creeping into my tone.
With a wink, I retreat into the bathroom to tend to my morning routine, leaving Jack's laughter trailing behind me. "Shut up, Jack," I call out, unable to suppress the smile that tugs at my lips.
As I catch my reflection in the mirror, a blush rises to my cheeks.
...
I get out of the uber, and run to Eva's hotel room, where's she's getting ready.
I knock on her hotel room door, room 1092. I hear voices behind the door. In hallway, there's multiple highfashionely people dressed who are passing beside me.
The door swings open, revealing Liam who's Eva makeup artist for every event she goes to. Eva is a well known influencer in the industry. Ew, I hate the word influencer, I will never call myself like this even though I have a lot of followers, but Eva her she embrace her title.
"Come on honey get in," Liam says.
I've talk to Liam before on internet, I remember him from the industry when I was living in LA. He takes my hand and get me inside.
I'm greeted by the sight of Eva, already glamorously adorned and sipping champagne like it's going out of style. Her playful tipsiness is contagious, and I can't help but chuckle as I set my bags down beside the bed.
"I finally get to see you," She says taking my head in her hands to have a better look at my face.
Setting my bags down by the bed, I watch as Eva lights up a cigarette, a gesture that catches me off guard in the confines of a non-smoking hotel room. Before I can voice my concern, she reassures me with a nonchalant wave of her hand. "Don't worry, I do it all the time. Just gotta open the windows," she explains, making quick work of ventilating the room.
I quickly change into my outfit of the day – a killer find from Saks that I scored for half off. I may be living that discount life, but you won't catch me spilling the secret. After all, it's all about that "fake it till you make it" vibe, am I right?
"Babe, come on, take a seat. I'll work my magic on your hair, but we've got a tight thirty-minute window," Liam insists, gesturing towards the chair with a sense of urgency.
I shoot him a grateful smile as Eva chimes in, encouraging me to let Liam do his thing. With a nod, I comply, settling into the chair as Liam gets to work.
His fingers move deftly through my hair, each stroke sending a wave of relaxation coursing through me. There's something oddly comforting about the gentle touch of his hands, the rhythmic motion lulling me into a state of calm.
Before I know it, Liam has transformed my locks into a sleek bun that frames my face perfectly. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and can't help but smile at the sight. Liam's talent knows no bounds, and I feel like a million bucks thanks to his skillful handiwork.
"Seriously, you should've come to LA. I'm so happy to see you, I feel like we have so much to talk about, if you see what I mean." Eva remarks, taking a final drag of her cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray by the window.
I nod in agreement, "Yeah, but LA feels like a world away sometimes. And with my job, it's been tough to find the time," I reply, careful to sidestep any mention of Jack Hughes and the complexities that come with discussing him.
She nods in understanding, a wistful smile gracing her lips. "Totally get it. But hey, at least we've got this moment now, right?" she says, her eyes meeting mine with a warmth that resonates deep within me.
I return her smile, a surge of gratitude flooding my heart. Despite the miles that separate us, Eva's friendship remains a constant source of strength and joy in my life. "Yeah, you're right. Here's to making the most of it," I say, raising my glass in a silent toast to the bond that transcends time and distance.
I lean in, unable to contain my curiosity any longer. "So, you and Zegras, huh?" I inquire, referencing the recent Instagram post where Trevor pretty much made their relationship official with that adorable story.
Eva's giggle fills the air, a playful twinkle in her eye. "Finally, right? It was about time," she quips, her tone light and teasing.
Liam, chimes in as he applies hair spray to my locks. "Oh, Liam," Eva interjects, her voice laced with amusement. "M here is probably the last person on earth to officially declare her relationships," she adds, drawing out the word 'relationship' as if to imply there have been multiple.
I shoot her a playful glare, unable to stifle my own laughter at the truth behind her words. Leave it to Eva to call me out on my reluctance to put my love life on display for the world to see. But hey, a little mystery never hurt anyone, right?
As Liam holds the mirror up for me to inspect his handiwork, he casually drops the bombshell question that sends a jolt of surprise through me. "Which are we talking about, Braden or Jack?" he asks, his tone light but curious.
I freeze for a moment, caught off guard by his directness. How did he know about Braden? And Jack? My mind races, trying to come up with a response, but Liam's knowing chuckle tells me that my secret might not be as well-kept as I thought.
"Honey, everybody knows," he says with a smirk, his words sinking in like a lead weight. With a helping hand, he guides me to my feet, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable under his discerning gaze.
Eva's voice breaks the uneasy silence, her toothbrush poised mid-air as she weighs in on the conversation. "I think you should clear things up," she says, her words hitting me like a cold splash of water. "With Braden, I mean."
I pour myself a glass of champagne, the bubbles providing a momentary distraction from the mounting tension in the room.
"I think you should clear things up," says Eva getting up from the bad adjusting her skirt. "With Braden I mean," she says her tooth brush in hand.
As Eva pauses mid-brush, a flash of realization illuminates her features. "Oh, by the way," she announces, her voice low and deliberate, "did I mention Jane was at the Ducks game?"
The name hits me like a bolt of lightning, sparking a surge of adrenaline that floods my veins. Jane – the very mention of her name sends a chill down my spine, a constant specter of doubt and unease lurking in the shadows of my mind. And now, to learn that she was at the game, in Jack's presence, without my knowledge... it's like a dagger to the heart.
My breath catches in my throat as I struggle to process Eva's words. How could Jack have failed to mention something so significant? Is he still sleeping with her? The questions swirl in my mind like a raging tempest, each one more terrifying than the last.
As Eva finishes her sentence, the weight of her words hangs heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the room. "And to be honest, I saw how he treated her," she continues, her voice dripping with disdain. "Trash, trash, trash. I wouldn't trust him as my friend's boyfriend."
I can tell she's being honest. Even thought I know Eva just a little, I know she wouldn't lie she has to time for that.
Liam's voice breaks the stillness, his words cutting through the tension like a knife. "In all fairness, I never really got the vibe that Jack was looking for anything serious," he offers, his tone gentle but unwavering. "He's always struck me as more of a free spirit, you know? He always has a new girl, since the beginning of his career."
As the words escape my lips, I can feel the weight of my own denial pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket. "Anyway, it's not like him and I had something serious," I murmur, my voice tinged with a hollow emptiness that belies the truth of my heart.
I glance back and forth between Eva and Liam, acutely aware of the pity reflected in their expressions. In their eyes, I see the unspoken thoughts echoing my own self-doubt: "Poor girl, she's being naive."
A surge of frustration wells up inside me as I grapple with the painful reality of my own delusions. What am I doing? How could I have been so blind to the truth staring me in the face? Jack doesn't want anything serious – not with me, not with anyone. And yet, I've been clinging to a fantasy, hoping against hope that our connection was enough to defy the odds.
"Come on, let's go. We have to attend the next show," Eva says, her voice brisk as she grabs her purse, a clear attempt to diffuse the tension hanging in the air.
I nod, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, and we hurry out of her hotel room, a sense of urgency propelling us forward as we navigate through the bustling crowds.
As we make our way to the event venue, Eva regales us with stories from past events, her larger-than-life personality shining through with every word. Despite her fame and success, she remains refreshingly down-to-earth, laughing and joking with everyone she meets.
We arrive at the building, a wave of excitement washes over me, mingled with a hint of apprehension at the sight of the throngs of people and flashing paparazzi lights. The cacophony of noise and chaos threatens to overwhelm my senses, and I find myself feeling slightly dizzy as we make our way to the entrance.
Amidst the chaos, I'm startled to hear my name being shouted by some of the onlookers. How do they know who I am? It's a surreal moment, realizing that I'm not as anonymous as I thought I was.
After confirming our invitation with the security, we finally step inside the venue, the energy of the crowd palpable as we navigate through the sea of people to find our seats. I offer polite apologies to the guests seated nearby, feeling the weight of their curious gazes upon me.
As I settle into my seat, the anticipation of the upcoming fashion show fills me with a sense of awe and gratitude. It's always been a dream of mine to attend one of these events, and I can't help but feel immensely grateful for the opportunity, even if it's just as Eva's plus one.
"You're Morgan Carter," the lady next to me remarks, her voice tinged with surprise and admiration.
I turn to face her, extending my hand with a gracious smile. "Correct," I reply, meeting her gaze with warmth and curiosity.
"My name is Rachel. Rachel Stewart," she introduces herself, a genuine smile spreading across her face. "You really inspired my daughter. She looks up to you for any kind of reason."
"That's amazing to hear," I respond, genuinely touched by her words. "I try my best to show the most relatable and authentic content online."
Rachel nods in agreement, her eyes sparkling with sincerity. "I saw the work you do as an interior designer. I think it's amazing. I saw that you renovated a penthouse here in New York for a well-known family."
I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks at the mention of my interior design projects, a mix of embarrassment and pride swirling within me. "Thank you," I reply, my voice tinged with humility. "Yes, I did that," I add with a soft chuckle.
Reaching into my purse, I retrieve a professional card with my contact information and hand it to Rachel. "Here you go," I say, offering her the card with a warm smile. "That's my number. If one day you're thinking about renovating, feel free to give me a call."
Rachel accepts the card with gratitude, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "Thank you so much, Morgan. I'll definitely keep that in mind," she says, her voice filled with genuine appreciation.
As the fashion show begins, I can't help but feel a sense of fulfillment wash over me. In this moment, surrounded by the glitz and glamour of the event, I'm reminded of the power of connection and the impact we can have on others, even in the most unexpected of circumstances.
Morgan.Carter posted a story
viewed by, Jackhughes , Ced.Carter , Olivia_Allen and a thousand more.
...
Hey!
We got a win for the Devils this afternoon, yay!
I might post another one tonight, because why not? It's Saturday.
Much love, xxx.