Dread immediately washes over me the second my alarm clock goes off. With a groan, I roll over to sit up and shut it off, flopping back down onto the mattress after.
I stare up at the hotel ceiling, having no motivation to get up and start this day. Still completely blind sighted the other day, I don't know if I'm even fully recovered enough to tackle today—as if I'd ever be ready to tackle today at all.
Today is the day the PR plan for Alex and Addison goes into full effect, today just so happening to be Alex's album release party. For the past few days everyone has been preparing to execute the whole plan, wanting their relationship to be announced and teased to the world flawlessly.
The past few days have been a slow antagonizing blur. Since finding out about Alex and Addison, it's all that's been shoved down my throat. Every second of the day seems to revolve around them and how our teams are going to work together to execute everything to benefit each other. I know this is my job, now, but God I wish it wasn't.
It would be so easy to up and quit, but how can I do that without a proper explanation or excuse? It's not like I can blurt out all that happened in the past. Airing out dirty laundry like mine to everyone else would just be foolish and unprofessional. Plus, I love my job and I feel like Greg would fall apart without me. Nine times out of ten I'm his right hand woman, which is why it still hurts that he didn't mention anything about this plan to me beforehand.
But still, how do I work with the man I despise and the man I was completely in love with? Especially when I'm sure the both of them hate my guts.
I let out a groan of frustration, resting my forearm over my eyes. My brain swirls with ideas of what to do, but every plan comes up short. Again, I want to just up and quit, but I'll be damned if Chris wins again.
Determined but still reluctant, I finally roll out of bed a few minutes behind schedule due to my thoughts being on overdrive.
Once I'm finished with my shower and fully dressed, I go down the hall to give Addison her wakeup call. I'm a few minutes late, but not late enough to put a huge dent in our day.
Reaching her door, I knock a few times and wait for her to answer. After thirty seconds I knock again, hoping she's not being occupied by an all too familiar dark haired, blue eyed male.
The sound of footsteps at the end of the hall catch my attention, and I turn my head to find Addison walking down the hallway digging in her purse for her room keycard. Her hair is a little mussed and she's wearing the same multicolored striped sundress she was wearing yesterday.
"Oh, hi. Sorry," she says bashfully, a small blush tinting her radiating skin. She brushes past me to open her door and I follow her inside.
"You weren't here last night?"
"No, I was with Alex," she confirms my suspicion, making my stomach twist. "I think the paparazzi got a pleasant surprise when I left his hotel this morning." She smiles triumphantly.
I work past my dry throat. "Paparazzi?"
"Yeah, I know we weren't supposed to start dropping hints about our relationship until later tonight, but Chris thought it would be a good opportunity to call them this morning to have them waiting outside the hotel to get some candid shots."
Of course he did.
I nod, anxiously starting to play with my fingers as she digs through her suitcase for an outfit to wear. "So, how did you and Alex meet?" I can't help but ask, the question gnawing at me for the past few days.
"We've been to a handful of mutual friends parties," she admits with a shrug. "Most of them were before he went to rehab. Gosh, it took me so long to finally get the courage to talk to him, and even find the opportunity, really. Every party I saw him at he was bombarded by women, but finally I managed to grow a pair one night and march up to him to grab his attention. One thing led to another and we had our fun for a while, up until he had to go to rehab. It was a couple of weeks ago we ran into each other again at a social event, and then about a week ago our managers met and came up with the plan to take our relationship public."
"Oh," is the only word I can manage to get past my lips, still trying to digest the information.
"Yeah, before I was just another girl to him, I think. I knew he always liked me, but he didn't want to commit. He's a really great guy, sexy as hell, and it's nice to finally be exclusive," she says with a smile.
Her words rub me the wrong way. Does she know him like I know him, or is she only about his looks?
"Well, I better get hustling. Would you mind ordering me breakfast while I get ready? We have a big day ahead of us," she says excitedly, already steeping into the bathroom and closing the door to get ready.
"Sure," I mumble, reaching for the phone to call room service.
Two hours later and I'm sitting on the polished hardwood flooring of Addison's dance studio, checking my emails with my planner in hand. Her voice along with upbeat pop music crones through the speakers as her and her dancers move swiftly and fluidly to the beat.
I allow myself to admire the choreography for a few minutes, being mesmerized at how well they can all move together. My main focus is on Addison, though, noting her natural beauty and confidence that's laced with elegance.
She is the epitome of a superstar. She's beautiful, smart, talented, the whole package deal. Something I'll never be, but something Alex needs.
From the beginning, I always knew Alex needed someone more his pace, someone that can keep up with his lifestyle and understand it. I was never oblivious to the fact, but I was ignorant. Despite knowing I'd never be enough, I still fell in love with him and pushed my luck. Blatantly ignoring the signs and my own warnings, I only set myself up for failure. And worst of all, I ended up dragging him down with me.
Shaking my head of the memories and my past mistakes, I clear my head as much as I can to sort through my emails. For the next thirty minutes I sort through them to map out my schedule for the upcoming next two weeks, a lot of my time being spent accompanying Addison to interviews and outings that involve Alex during the day while most of her nights are scheduled with concerts.
A more recent email catches my eye, the subject line titled: Alex and Addison Paparazzi Shots. My heart rate accelerates and my hands nervously twist in my lap above the keyboard. Do I open it? Do I want to?
Finding the courage, I will my hands to unravel and I open the email. I see that there are numerous people it was forwarded to, everyone on both teams. Attached is an article published by a popular tabloid, the pictures of Addison leaving Alex's hotel displayed for the world to see, along with a few paragraphs speculating the reason of the occurrence between the two pop stars.
I scroll through the thumbnails, the majority of the photos are of Addison walking out of Alex's hotel and catching a taxi, looking flawless like she was walking a runway. But there are photos of her and Alex together, too.
I click on a photo of them together, blowing it up to get a better look. I scroll through the photos of them together, the photos taken through the hotel lobby windows. Some are hard to make out, the glare from the sun reflecting off the glass.
In the photos I can make out Addison hanging on to him while he has his hand at the small of her back, their chests pressed together. They seem to be having an intimate moment, the two of them lost in each other and whatever conversation they're having. They seem very fond of each other, even fonder when Alex kisses her cheek before they depart.
There are hundreds of pictures snapped of them back to back that they may as well be strung together to create a choppy film.
My heart aches and I close the lid of my laptop, physically rubbing at my chest as if it'll ease the dull ache. I know I should be happy for them—that Addison has her dream guy every girl wants to be with, and Alex has found someone more his pace—but deep down I can't find myself to be truly happy. Maybe not even a little happy at all.
I close my eyes, tilting my head back to rest it against the plastered wall. If I can hardly handle these photos, how am I supposed to handle tonight? I've been mentally trying to prepare myself for the last few days, honestly believing I could handle all of it, but now I'm not so sure.
The music thumps as we enter the swanky hotel ballroom to attend Alex's release party. The large space is dimly lit by numerous chandlers hanging from the high-rise ceiling, giving it a club like atmosphere. All the dining tables and chairs are removed from the white marble flooring, giving the room an open floor plan with various couches and modern seating arrangements along the walls and corners. The walls and pillars are a dark wood paneling with gold trim and accents, giving the room a very elegant but modern feel. The space defiantly fits the theme of the cover of his album that's black, white, and gold.
Hanging on the far side of the wall from the entrance is a blown up replica of the cover. In the black and white shot, Alex is pictured from the bare chest up as he stares intensely into the camera, his body language strong and powerful, shoulders set. Only one side of his face is illuminated while the other is shadowed by darkness as dead rose petals seem to be falling around him. Slashed into the bottom center of the photo is the title of the album "Over You" in a shimmering gold.
I can't help but feel like the whole thing is an orchestrated dig at me, because I know it is. From the dead rose petals to the title, I can already tell this whole album is going to be centered on our relationship and his narrative of all the pain I caused him. As much as I know this album will break my heart to hear, I deserve it. As much as he deserves a healthy outlet to project all of his anger and hurt instead of turning to substances.
Various flashes and a rise in volume catches my attention. To my left, I notice that Alex has just arrived, stepping onto a mini red carpet set up for some photo ops. The secluded area is surrounded by photographers from entertainment outlets to help promote the album.
Alex stands on the carpet, cool and collected. Chin held high, he exerts confidence and without demand he effortlessly captures everyone's attention in the room. He's absolutely stunning as he casually poses for the cameras, dressed in black distressed jeans and an untucked black button up dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
I take a moment to soak him in, noticing again how much older and mature he looks. It's hard to deny that I still have feelings for him when he still has my heart racing.
More commotion erupts from the rowdy paps when Addison strolls onto the carpet with him, wrapping her arm around his waist and tucking herself into his side. She's positively radiating in her strapless gold mini dress and Alex manages a coy smile, pulling her in closer by the waist as the flashes go wild, everyone shouting out questions about their status.
I have to admit, they're a breathtaking couple. The both of them are impossibly gorgeous, talented, and successful, making them an obvious power couple. While my heart hurts to see them together, it aches a little less to see Alex with someone he deserves. And as long as he's happy, that's all I can ask for.
During all the chaos, Alex's eyes sweep the venue, stopping as soon as they land on mine. I wonder if I'm imagining things, wondering if his eyes can really be locked on mine with all the blinding flashes of the cameras. Nevertheless, I nervously flatten out the flowy knee length skirt of my black cap sleeve dress, shifting uncomfortably in my short heels.
It feels inappropriate to be here, like I'm seeking out to torment him when it's the complete opposite of my intention. I honestly have no real intention of being here, other than having to do my job. Greg insisted that I come here to celebrate our two teams coming together when in reality I'd give anything to be hidden up in my hotel room right now, sitting and listening to the album when the clock strikes midnight with a pint of ice cream and Shay by my side.
Speaking of Shay, I'll have to send that girl a thank you card, a gift basket, something for putting up with me the last few days, trying to help me digest everything and being my shoulder to cry on. Since the night I saw Alex again she's gotten a frantic phone call from me every night to update her on everything that's been going on.
But as much as I don't want to be here tonight, how could I tell Greg no and come up with an appropriate excuse to bail? So instead here I am, standing in the middle of a crowded room that has no idea I'm the girl behind the album. The girl that did him wrong.
With Alex's eyes still seemingly boring into mine, the room suddenly feels smaller, like it's closing in on me. Feeling my chest tighten, I break contact and scurry off into a corner, tucking myself into a plush chair, planning on staking out here all night to avoid any attention and keep to myself.
Later on in the night Greg comes up to me, taking a seat in the empty chair next to mine.
"Having fun?" he asks, skepticism in his tone. He probably knows I've just been sitting here all night while everyone else is being social.
"Sorry, parties just aren't my thing," I say embarrassed. It's not a complete lie.
He nods in understanding, lifting his beer up. "Do you want anything?" He tips the neck of the bottle towards the open bar.
"No, thanks." The last thing I want in my system right now is alcohol. "You go have fun," I encourage, knowing he came over here to check on me. "I'm good."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure." I give him a reassuring smile as he stands up.
"Alright, try to have fun," he teases, tipping his beer in departure.
I slouch back in the chair, scrolling through my phone to pass the time. To buy myself some even more time, I decide to get up to go find the restroom. Shuffling through the crowd, I find a gap in it that just so happens to give me the perfect view of Alex and Addison, surrounded by a group of other people our age.
Addison sits comfortably on Alex's lap as he sits on a small couch. One of her hands is occupied by playing with the curls at the back of Alex's head, her other hand holding a glass of what I can only assume to be alcohol, much like all their other friends.
Addison and their friends seem to be having a great time, laughing and immerged in conversation, but I can see Alex's jaw is tight, his gaze blank and uninterested despite everything going on around him.
In the dimly lit room an orange ember catches my eye, glowing brightly and fading fast. A cloud of smoke emerges forward, and when it fades I'm able to make out the figure behind the blunt, Brody Roberts.
Brody and Alex have been pinned against each other for years, the two popstar heartthrobs always battling it out on the charts. The two were always so different, Alex the more clean cut pop sensation while Brody was the edgy bad boy. Now they're more alike than I'd like to admit.
Since I left, Alex and Brody started hanging out, Brody becoming a bad influence and getting Alex into some trouble here and there. They were always spotted out clubbing and partying, slowly becoming a dynamic duo. I just thought after rehab the two wouldn't be seeing each other.
The blunt starts to get passed around, Addison taking a long drag from it, offering it up to Alex after. He shoots her a glare, shaking his head. I realize how hard this must be for him, being surrounded by drugs and alcohol, only being out of rehab a few months. It makes me furious for him. Who would allow him to be surrounded by all of this?
"You have some nerve being here," a voice growls, and suddenly I know who.
I tear my gaze from the awful scene to look at Chris. "Well it's sort of my job. My boss invited me."
His jaw clenches. "Don't take that tone with me. You're walking on thin ice," he threatens.
"What, are you going to try to destroy this job for me, too?" I press, a flare of anger running through me.
"You ruined him once, I won't let it happen again," he snarls.
I open my mouth to retort but instantly close it when a heavy arm drapes around my shoulders, a large hard body leaning into mine.
"I'd let you ruin me any day, sweetheart." I look up to see Brody towering over me. His sandy blonde hair is disheveled on top of his head, the sides shaven. His green, bloodshot eyes are hooded as he peers down at me, a lazy smile on his lips that still shows off deep dimples on his sharp, attractive face.
I instinctively look back to where I saw him last, spotting Alex, his eyes ablaze.
Hey, guys! If you haven't checked it out yet I changed the character aesthetics on the title page! :)
Also, sorry for the slow updates. Unfortunately I don't have as much down time as others right now with working in the medical field. So please bare with me as I try my best to put out new, quality chapters for you<3
Please continue to stay safe and wash your hands!