✓ academic rivals
✓ enemies to lovers
✓ fake dating
✓ Many more of your favourite tropes <3
Lowen had been through hell and back to get to where she is now - one of the world's best upcoming music artists. But after releasing a few hit singles she k...
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It's official. I'm an arsehole. Yes, I would like to blame Lowen's reappearance on my behaviour, but it's truly me who's the problem.
I mean, I've never been perfect; I hire someone to take care of my dog during the day because all I do is work. I am inpatient. If I don't have a bookmark handy, I will fold the corner of the page. I don't care for my family as much as I should. I strongly dislike denim.
All of these things I knew, but I let myself continue because everyone has flaws. But what kind of jackass makes comments like I did the yesterday?
Winnie has been radio silent, bar her Instagram posts, but even I know those were pre-taken photos. There's been no 'Lowen-sightings', and I expected she and Jessica would be out celebrating. Even Samuel hasn't spoke to them. I was tempted to reach out to apologise in some way, but instead I've been cooped up in my office, reading her manuscript all day.
"Another late night?" Samuel asked as he stood in my doorway.
"I'm reading her manuscript." I admit. "I'll finish everything up, don't worry." I dismissed him.
"I'm glad you're reading it." He nodded in approval before leaving me in silence once again.
I finished all my emails, sending them off before turning off my computer. Settling back into my chair and loosening my tie, I was ready to start reading again.
Chapter after chapter I found myself feeling sick. The guilt stirred in my stomach. I tried my best to finish it, to read it all for her, but my eyes kept pulling to the small framed photo I have, hidden beside my computer at an angle only I can see.
The picture of little me sat on my mother's lap eating ice cream stared back at me. I keep it here as a reminder that I do all this for her, but for the first time, I'm looking at him. The eight year old boy in the photo. Mum may be proud of my business, but that boy would not be proud of the man I've turned into. I've hurt that little boy's best friend.
I somehow managed to turn the page and finish the distressing chapter. As much as her story is horrible, the way she portrays it in her writing is a talent. She's an amazing author.
With my heels in one hand and my purse in the other, I stumbled out of the bar.
That was it. I couldn't do it anymore. I left the stapled papers on my desk but slipped her USB stick into my pocket.
I took the stairs two at a time. "Sorry, busy evening, do you mind locking up now?" I asked Melinda who sat at the front desk.
"Of course, sir, goodnight."
"Goodnight."
Practically running down the street, I made my way across the city centre. The evenings are darker now, and the street lamps reflected off every small puddle and shop window.
