𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗲𝗺𝗺𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 ★ 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗶𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗺𝘀

2 - it's just a 20-minute nap, I swear

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—

after a long day of interview after interview, I'd kill for a power nap, to change into comfortable clothing, and to get this cakey foundation off of my skin.

I've held on this long solely because of the fact that we have around four hours to rest before I need to be in glam for jimmy fallon.

as soon as we get escorted into the hotel I make a beeline toward the elevator, but not before I hear the rushing clicks of high heels behind me.

I turn around and jam the button for the fourth floor as Gracie slips into the elevator just as the doors close, her long brown hair fanning out around her.

she reaches over to hit the 7th-floor button, but as she does so, our hands brush against each other. her hand is hot and almost instantly sends goosebumps up my arm. I yank my hand back and bite back a nasty facial expression. Instead of focusing on my unwelcome elevator buddy, I study the buttons with immense detail, noticing how bright the 7th-floor button glows.

I almost scoff, but manage to suppress it into a sort of disgruntled sigh. of course, little miss daddy's money has a penthouse suite. I bet she rented the whole damn floor.

"Look, Emmeria, I-"

"It's Emma" I spit, my mouth curling in disgust, the only people that get to call me by my full name are my sister and parents. Everyone else knows me as Emma, it's just easier to pronounce. And I get a lot fewer questions.

"oh, yeah, um, sorry- Emma, look I really am so sorry for earlier and I would totally pay for dry cleaning of that top, I'm really sorry and I don't want to get off on the wrong foot on the first day and I feel really bad for ruining your top and I'm really-"

I cut Gracie off with a scoff

"yeah, okay." I roll my eyes, and Gracie kinda cocks her head, confused. "I don't want you or your daddy's money. Just fuckin' forget about the damn top already."

I don't get another word out of the brunette because the elevator promptly dings and I strut out, leaving the annoying girl behind.

once I get to my hotel room, I strip down to my bra and a pair of boxers, then quite literally collapse onto the bed. My eyes are just starting to get heavy with the promise of sleep when my phone starts ringing.

"aughhhh ben kalbâ" I curse as I roll over and pick up the phone (son of a bitch in hebrew)

"hyy mwtq" my mother's soft voice floods through the speakers of my phone in the comforting hebrew that instantly calms me ("hello darling")

"šlwm ʾmʾ" I respond with a sigh ("hi, mom")

"mtwqh, ʾt nšmʿt ʿyyph. ʾth bṭwḥ šʾth lʾ rwṣh lḥzwr hbyth? hm mʾkylym ʾwtk mspyq? ʾwly pšwṭ tḥzwr hbyth wlqḥt hpsqh mkl hšṭwywt hʾlh?" my mom asks, her voice filled with concern. ("Sweetie, you sound tired. are you sure you don't want to come home? are they feeding you enough? maybe you should just come home and take a break from all this nonsense")

"Mama, ʾth ywdʿ šʾny ʾwhb ʾt hʿbwdh šly. ʾny bsdr, ʾny mbṭyḥ." I respond ("Mom, you know I love my job. I'm okay, I promise")