The Pop Star and the Playboy Quarterback のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

*Ophelia*By the time the food arrives, Asher’s still nowhere to be found. I thank the driver and then shut the door, bringing our bag of food into the living room where I place it on the coffee table by the couch. Should I go try to find him? I don’t want to seem clingy or anything, but it’s been well over half an hour since he’s been gone on his phone call.Perhaps I could just pop my head in whatever room he’s in and let him know the food is here, that way I can check on him.Heading down the hallway where I’d last seen him, I walk a few paces until I begin to hear his voice again. Following it, I end up going down another hallway where I see one of the doors open. Poking my head in, I see Asher sitting behind a large desk, scrolling on a laptop while he’s talking on his phone. “Yeah, that sounds fine… great, I’ll see you then.”I lean my hip against the doorway as he ends the call. “Everything okay?”He looks over at me, not at all seeming surprised that I’m standing the

*Ophelia*I jump into Asher’s arms, kissing him as he spins me around like a romantic comedy. It feels like it’s been weeks since we’ve seen each other, and just being in his arms makes me feel a way I haven’t felt before.“I missed you,” he whispers into my ear, clutching the back of my head. He laces his fingers between my hair, and God does it feel so incredibly good.“Missed you more,” I reply.Asher’s in town for tonight and tomorrow, and luckily, his visit falls on one of my gigs at Aunt Jen’s. I’m pumped for this because besides seeing me at the plaza the night of Camila’s downfall, he hasn’t watched me perform yet. “So, besides seeing me at Aunt Jen’s, anything you wanna do while we’re in town?” I press as we head out of my apartment together holding hands. I’ve got my guitar case secured in the other hand, and we make our way out into the warm evening air.“I’ve got some ideas,” he taunts. “Been looking into a specific activity.”“Oh no, what’re you going to make me do

*Asher*As predicted, I struggle with sleeping even on the ground. Turning constantly, my mind taunting me through the night with horrid nightmares I awake from in a panic. It’s stressful and triggering.Our argument when Ophelia came home is what dances through each dream, but Courtney’s image morphs with Ophelia as my body and mind try to agree on who’s said what in the past. Sweat encases my back, and my head starts to grow heavy and pained.I sit up, leaning forward as I put my head in my hands, a wash of different emotions pushing and pulling me.This cannot happen again. I hate myself for this, but if there’s any hope for me to sleep, something’s got to give.I crawl into Ophelia’s bed, which stirs her. “Asher?” she murmurs, eyes half open as she looks at me. “What time is it?”“Late,” I respond. “Sorry. Couldn’t sleep.”“What’s wrong?” She asks, rubbing at her eyes. “Nothing,” I lie, just wanting to sleep. “Go back to sleep, okay?”Ophelia sits up more, clearly sti

*Ophelia*Even with the looming possibility of moving to L.A. still ever-persistent in my head, I manage to put myself out there and get another waitress job at a diner not far off from my usual busking spot. In fact, it’s on my street; Broadway Diner Nashville has been around longer than Mama has. I’ve only been once or twice, but thankfully, I’ve got enough experience being a waitress that at the end of the interview, the manager, Harriet, offers me the job on the spot.“Come on in tomorrow at three. We’ll get you trained up, though all we’ll really need to do is show you around,” Harriet tells me with a gentle smile. She’s the first person I feel has looked at me with any mountain of kindness in days.I’m delighted to have another waitress gig to help with bills. I told Harriet this is only supposed to be part-time and that my main job has me busy, too. Translation: I don’t know when the hell Mac Daddy will ever call me and say I have one meeting or another.Since signing with

*Ophelia*I wake up to my phone going off repeatedly. Each ding that plays doesn’t have time to fade out before several other notifications go off. What the hell is going on? Who needs to get ahold of me this badly?I rub the sleep from my eyes and grab the phone, unlocking it to see my social media accounts blowing up.As my vision begins to clear, I see awful comments coming up about me. From several accounts, I see hate, lies, and full-fledged threats emerging.I quickly scan the lines of text before me.“She looks like a cheap hooker.”“Her voice reminds me of a screeching monster.”“Flat-chested bitch.”“No talent, don’t understand what people see in her.”“The ugliest person I’ve ever seen.”“She’s definitely after the Slater’s money. Someone please tell Asher to kick her ass!”“Someone should shut her up.”“I’ve been thinking about how I’d kill you.”“Someone call SVU because we’re about to have a crime on our hands.”“Camila deserved better than you, whore.”I