neighborly

forty - 15 seconds of fame

Two months ago, Roman and I moved back in together.

Anyone who says moving in with a boyfriend is a terrible decision, clearly hasn't ever moved in with my boyfriend because personally i'm living the life.

There's just one teensy problem.

A problem I didn't know existed until earlier yesterday.

When Roman and I first got together, I knew he was famous. Obviously, cause he played for and owned a whole soccer team, besides there were all those articles when I was internet stalking and people coming up to him for pictures.

I just misjudged, how famous he had become.

But, just like I had grown, so had Roman and his career. Magazines, fan pages, paparazzi all that shit now.

A year ago, us dating would have been ignored in the blink of an eye, but today? Apparently that was big news.

I mean Roman was this hot ass millionaire, team owning, record breaking soccer player and I was banned from Target and the Apple store.

And that Chipotle I once stole from.

But, all of this was no big deal, as he was regular person to me, but yesterday I found it it was a very, very big deal.

But let me start from the beginning of this, from that gosh dang paparazzi picture Times magazine posted of us out on a dinner date.

I mean who even reads the News anyway?

Apparently everyone.

"Look at this!" I said yesterday sitting up quickly, then calming down because I was not fit for the accidental crunch I just did.

"Hm?" Roman said focused on the nail polish he was using to paint my toenails hot pink.

"How are you going to be mad if people look at your feet, when this color is so bright its gonna attract space stations?" Roman insults.

"I feel like that's the feet pervert version of she was asking for it, anyway look at this." I say pushing my phone towards him.

Roman still dosent look and instead goes in for the kill, "You have no pinky nail."

"Yes I do, you just have to squint."

"Do you even want polish on this?"

"Yes? I don't want my toes uneven? You're not getting a tip."

Roman put a small, tiny, teensy dot on my pinkie toe before turning to me, "Show me what you wanted to show me?"

I showed him my phone, "I have 1.5 million followers! I had 459 yesterday."

"I wonder why I have so many?" I say thinking out loud just like Ed Sheeran.

"Probably because of that article. And then the fifty that came after" Roman said nonchalantly and I think back to the articles everyone I had ever known sent me earlier today with a "We should totally hangout!"

"Oh." I think, "The one about you dating the "random blonde girl?"

I shrug, "They had to be real detectives to find me."

Roman stopped painting my nails, and leaned his head back on the couch thinking. It was a very hot site, although I didn't like what he said next, "Delete the account, make a new private one."

I looked at him like he was crazy, "And lose my 15 seconds of fame? Nuh uh."

"Love, im not gonna force you to do anything, but the internets a shitty place."