*Ophelia*From the moment I touch down in L.A., everything becomes a blur. Mac Daddy has set up what feels like a million meetings with different producers, record labels, and other famous individuals who all want to help me and work to build on the momentum of the newfound fame I’ve achieved. It’s strange to hear people want to capitalize on my voice, mostly because these producers and such know me from Asher, or the stunt I pulled at Camila’s big show.I feel like a different version of myself, the grown-up one I didn’t expect to ever meet. But even though I feel this way, everything still makes me feel like my life isn’t my own.In our third meeting, after I talk about what I’m looking for, the men continue talking as though I’m not truly there. So, I aggressively put down the Starbucks cup to garner the attention of the room. “I don’t think you heard me. I said I want to be known for my own talent?”One of the producers nods his head, turning to look at my manager. “The idea
*Ophelia*I don’t answer any calls from Mac Daddy until I’m in a taxi.“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all morning. Where have you been?” he snaps.“Busy,” I deadpan. “I’m going to Little Rock.”I’m sure if he were standing before me, I’d watch my manager’s jaw hang down to his feet. I’d thought long and hard about what to do since my last call with Mac Daddy yesterday. I'd been sitting in my hotel room, repeatedly reviewing our phone call in my head.And then, just like always, Asher’s face appeared. I hadn’t heard from him in a week, and I did as Mark asked, I gave him space. But I thought Asher would have finally called me by now. I thought maybe, just maybe, we could talk things out over the phone.I saw he lost his game over the weekend, and it was just another reason I wanted to call him. But I didn’t. I left him alone.And now I can’t do it anymore.“What the hell are you going to Little Rock for?”“Asher Slater,” I confirm.“You’re choosing the playboy quarterb
*Asher*She’s a wreck as she stands in front of my door. However, seeing her beautiful face and body, and yes, even the tears wretches in my heart. I can’t believe she’s here. Why is she standing at my front door, distressed?Instead of answering me, she shows me some pictures online. I stare at the phone, confused at what I’m seeing. It’s me and Courtney? It’s from over a year ago, and I reach out and take her phone. She crosses her arms and blurts out, “Why the hell didn’t you call me back?”“What?” I look at her like she asked me where babies come from. I’m still trying to get it through my head how she’s in Little Rock. Millions of questions fly through my brain, but I can’t settle on one. All this silence, and here she is, looking right at me with tear-stained cheeks.She huffs. “I gave you space like Mark asked. It was fucking torture, but I did it because I understood how important it was that you needed to work things out on your own. But you never called me back and—”“Ma
*Ophelia*We spend the night rediscovering one another, moments of sleep intermixed with sex, tumbling through the sheets with one another as we laugh into each other’s bodies. It’s a blur of ecstasy, moments of clarity pinpointed when I’m falling over the edge that Asher has evoked. His strength, his heart, and his body are all overtaking him. It’s a loving blur, and I wake in the morning with stiff muscles, having done more with my body in the past twenty-four hours than just serving food.It’s nice to wake up with Asher next to me, softly breathing as he gives me a soft smile. I cuddle closer, not wanting any space to sit between us as we lie together on his king-sized bed.We’re quiet for a while, but I don’t mind it. I just want to enjoy this moment, and I am. It’s so calming after the heavy storms we’ve been through recently.“I told you last night, but I mean it. I want this, Ophelia,” he whispers as he runs his fingers down my arm. “I know things started rocky, I know the
*Ophelia*Asher’s home less than an hour later, walking through to the living room with sheer annoyance on his face. “What a waste of time. She’s fine; I don’t know why they bothered calling me.”I shrug. “Maybe Courtney was afraid of something being wrong.”He sighs, plopping down next to me on the couch. “Well, I’m back now.” He looks over at his television, turned onto a sports channel. “What are we watching?”I sigh. “Bullshit. Just passing the time while waiting for you.”Asher kisses the side of my head. “That’s sweet. Any way I can make tonight up to you?”“There’s nothing to make up,” I insist, nudging his ribs. “Courtney needed you.”The thing I don’t say, however, is that I’m still skeptical of how tonight’s events played out. I don’t want to sit around accusing people at all costs. I WANT to trust Asher when it comes to all of this. We’ve battled enough since the start. I know after this brief separation that I want him in my life, and I’m willing to put in all the wo
*Ophelia*I’ve called Mac Daddy three times since I received Lucy’s text message, but I haven’t heard from him. I’m currently rushing to the recording studio we’re working in. I don’t even understand what Lucy’s message means. What am I stealing exactly?I made sure to shoot Asher a text to let him know I arrived, and that business came up, and I couldn’t call until later. ‘Understood. Go kick ass and take names.’His confidence upped my desperation to get answers, and I burst into the studio to achieve that goal.Mac Daddy, Lucy, and others on the team all jump in surprise.“You weren’t answering my calls,” I state, walking towards my manager.“We were in the middle of a meeting,” he replies, pulling out his phone and barely glancing down at it. “And what’s that meeting?” I snap. The man we’re working with, David Letz, snaps his eyes onto me with shock. Lucy smirks in my direction, seemingly to challenge my opinion and anger. “Because we’re supposed to be here for MY album.”
*Ophelia*Even though Mac Daddy wanted me on the red carpet tonight, he still had me in the recording studio for hours before finally cutting me loose.I’m exhausted now, working tirelessly to put this album together. I guess the silver lining to this is that David is excellent to work with and very kind which is a first since I got to L.A. I feel like someone gives a damn. It’s hard to tell what Mac Daddy is looking for, but sometimes, it doesn’t feel like he cares. Maybe I’m just too exhausted to know.I speak to Asher about the stress, and he’s on edge. “Do I need to come out there?”“For me to sing some songs?”“To make sure he doesn’t work you to death.”My heart sings. “I want it to be the best it can be, baby,” I insist. “But thank you for looking out for me.”Asher immediately responds, “I always will.”I return to my hotel, wanting nothing more than to shower and collapse into bed. But I know that’s not going to happen. I shower, the warm water comforting my fatigued
*Ophelia*I’m stunned into silence. I’ve only seen her online and in gossip columns, but she’s undeniably picturesque in her long blue dress. Her long, blonde hair perfectly falls in waves down her back, and her pink nails match with her pale pink eyeshadow. The only contrast is the gold necklace wrapped around her neck. It’s a large C in what looks like real gold, and as she walks towards us, her gold heels peek out of her dress.All of this is to say Asher’s ex-girlfriend is striking in person. She doesn’t compare to her pictures. She’s the whole package. Even her breasts and butt are huge, straining the fabric in the way I know many men ogle.“Mac!” Courtney’s chipper voice comes across as sweet, unlike the voice I’d heard on the other end of Asher’s phone. She leans over, kissing him on each cheek. “Mwah! Oh, darling, it’s been ages!”“Look at you in this dress! The definition of perfection.”She turns to admire her figure. “Oh, this thing? I saw it in a store display and simp
*Ophelia*The screaming patrons of the concert hall cause the backstage area to rumble under my feet. That, mixed with my nerves, has me quivering. All my work has brought me to this moment. But I can’t help the ache in my heart not having Asher here but know there’s no time to wallow. Tomorrow is the championship game, and the team can’t go anywhere, even if they want to.I take in a deep breath, shuddering as it exits my lungs. I shake out my hands next and start pacing back and forth.“You okay, Ophelia?” Daphne appears by my side, her phone in hand as always. She’s dressed in a t-shirt with my name printed across it and a pair of jeans, with a blazer thrown on over the ensemble.She reminds me of Carolanne, and I’ve dubbed her my older sister. She’s been so attentive, helpful, and even kind to me. I’ve cherished her advice and compassion, so I know I can share my anxieties.“I’m nervous as hell, Daph. I don’t need to be. I’ve been rehearsing for months and know nothing impedes
*Asher*“Oh, that’s nothing.” Ophelia declares this so nonchalantly that I hesitate a moment. My phone is blowing up with notifications that have tagged us both. But these aren’t standard messages people are sending. There are threats, violent thoughts, and desires. I don’t normally interact with my social media accounts. This, though, is much different.“No,” I slowly start. “Nothing is someone just saying they don’t like you. These messages aren’t nothing, Ophelia.”“It’s been happening for months, Asher. I’ve just turned off all my social media notifications.”I rear back like I’ve been stabbed. “MONTHS?!”She nods, shrugging like she’s just misremembered something that isn’t important. “Yeah, I just figure people hate me because I’m dragging your image down or something? I didn’t tell anyone, though. You have enough stress on your plate; I didn’t want to add this, too.”I can’t help but laugh at her wanting to protect me. Hasn’t she realized I’d do anything for her? “My love,
*Ophelia*“Ophelia! ‘Lose It All’ is number three on the charts this week!” My new manager, Daphne McKenna, calls through the studio, excitedly running up to me. She shows me her phone, and I pull the headphones from my head to around my neck.“Holy shit!” I squeal, jumping up and down in my seat. “This is insane!”“They love you, Ophelia!” David says, coming in with a bottle of champagne. “And we’re immensely proud of you.”The interns and other workers enter the studio, handing David a towel to open the bottle without risking the equipment.“Thank you, guys, really. David, I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without your support. Daphne, thank you for taking on my baggage load in such a short time. I’m so happy to have you here with us. And thank you to everyone else for all your hard work and dedication. But thank you for believing in me.”The bottle goes POP! as everyone cheers, pouring alcohol into paper cups and cheering about the room.It finally feels like I’ve e
*Asher*November comes and goes, and we’re staring down the barrel of Christmas and the New Year. Celebrating Thanksgiving with Ophelia in attendance was some of the most fun I’ve had in years. Per tradition, the Slater family plays football out in the yard while the turkey cooks. It’s nothing more than a friendly, silly time where no score is kept, and no one plays by the official rules.Ophelia initially wasn’t interested. “I like to watch sports, not play them,” she’d teased. But then, Payton and Renee asked to join in, and her entire attitude changed. “Alright, fine! If your nieces are gonna play, then count me in.” It had been a few months since she met the girls, and neither remembered my girlfriend. But it soon didn’t matter because they were busy trying to run the ball down the yard.AJ even came in to pick up Renee, carrying her past everyone so that she could score. Adorably, she tried to spike the ball with both hands, but the ball just flopped to the ground.The entire
*Ophelia*I can feel Asher’s body tense, his muscles becoming predominant at the initial glance of the stocky man. As usual, his suit is too tight around his body, and as an added bonus, he’s sweating his ass off, wiping at his forehead with a handkerchief like it’s still the 1950s.“Well, well, well. Look who’s come crawling back.” Peters's voice comes out like a slithering snake. It fits perfectly with his conniving ways, and I cringe at the sound. What a bastard.“Alvin?” I inquire, taking a step forward.“Miss Lane. Have you come to your senses? Finally realized that I’ve been right all along?” It’s like he believes he is invincible in this setting, but I’m about to drop the bomb on him. I can’t wait to see his expression. I look up at Asher, who returns the glance. He raises a single eyebrow but doesn’t release the tension. I think he’s even clenching his jaw.I turn back to the pathetic excuse for a man. “You’re fired. You’re no longer my manager. If you want to address an
*Ophelia*“Please, tell me what happened, and don’t leave anything out.”Maria connected us with a friend who specializes in contract law. She just so happens to have a location in Los Angeles, so a few days after his game, we fly out to meet with her. Asher and I sit in her office now, staring across her desk as she asks me to recount everything that’s happened with Alvin Peters since the moment I met him at the restaurant in Nashville.Emily Faith, the lawyer, has her hair wrapped in a bun on top of her head. She could be mistaken for my mother; the color is identical. She wears a grey pantsuit with a pink-collar shirt and has a steaming cup of hot coffee on her desk. She’d offered some to the two of us, but I’ve been too jittery this morning to accept anything. Instead, we were brought two cups of water. I hold mine tight in my grasp as I force myself to breathe. Emily’s hands are folded on the table, and she looks from Asher to me. I do as she asks.“I felt…funny after taki
*Ophelia*Asher’s parents take us all to dinner to celebrate the win of another game. It’s significantly more fun than any of the time I spent in L.A., and I think their son telling his girlfriend he’s in love with her put everyone in a much better mood after Courtney. We go to an upscale Italian place, but we are not properly dressed. Usually, this would make me nervous because I feel as though I’d stick out. But in truth, I don’t notice if people watch over us. I’m bursting with love and happiness for my person; being with his family is like a dream come true.Frank orders a bottle of champagne for the four of us, holding his glass up once we’ve all been given ours. “To my family and Asher's big win.”We clink glasses, taking sips together. I watch Asher’s face, wondering if he picked up on his father’s words and their meaning. I don’t think he was referring to football, at least.We order pizza and pasta, and the restaurant's vibe is inviting. The Slaters know the owner well,
*Ophelia*I can hear Asher before I see him. Courtney’s standing before him all done up, but her face is scrunched up in rage, red blotches on her cheeks and down her neck. “How dare you talk to me this way! Who the hell do you think you are?”“I don’t care who you think I am. I’m in love with Ophelia, and nothing you can say will change how I feel!”I stop in my tracks, Asher’s parents both running into me. I can’t help it. Did he just say that? Did I hear him right?“You…” I stammer out, my hand shooting up to my mouth in disbelief. Asher Slater, the quarterback, is in love? With me?My heart picks up speed, the thumping going through every inch of my body as I process the words. Asher and Courtney both jump at my single word, the two making eye contact with the three of us mere feet away. The reactions each have are vastly different. While Courtney continues to blow steam from her ears, Asher’s face relaxes, and his brown eyes tell me the truth.He loves me. In Love. With me.
*Asher*My teammates hoist me into the air as they begin to celebrate in the endzone. Holy shit, thank God we won. I almost blacked out while running that last thirty yards. All my brain could say to me was, “Don’t fuck this up.”“That’s our fucking quarterback!” Mark cheers, lifting his helmet in the air and spinning his arm around. “Asher Slater is a force to be RECKONED with!”My best friend seems to be drunk on the win, but I won’t spoil this for him. The guys all worked their asses off to get this win today. I’m still shocked by our win, but I scan the crowd before us, made up of teammates, reporters, coaches, and other football personnel. I look up at the family box that I know Ophelia’s in with my parents. I’d noticed when sitting on the bench in between my time on the field that the cameras continued showing off the three of them, enjoying the game and laughing together. Ophelia looked mortified a few times she appeared on screen, and all I wanted to do was tell her it w