A photographer with a secret blog and a pop star who's lack of a love life is ruining his career, team up to fulfill both of their wants. She gains popularity, stays out of prison, and also receives the not-so-bad byproduct: money; while he and his...
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After I uploaded the new post to my website, I closed my laptop and finally got some rest. I slept for a good twelve hours with no interruptions as I had turned my phone off as well for maximum peace.
When I woke up, my head was throbbing, and I felt like I hadn't drunk anything in hours.
I shuffle across the apartment, my hand up my shirt and resting on one of my breasts for warmth. I know I need to go grocery shopping and I know I keep avoiding it, but as I stare at my nearly empty fridge with a drop of apple juice left and a single water bottle, I realize that avoidance is no longer an option.
I've been thinking about whether or not I should lease out my other bedroom and just get a roommate, to save money, but I don't want to. I like living alone, even if that means eating a little less or working a little harder.
I accept defeat and swig the last bit of the apple juice before throwing it into the bottom of the bin.
I look around my room for my phone charger as I slide into my seat and plug up my phone. It's time to see how the post is doing. I assume that it'll do much better than the last because I was too into this one and it shows in my writing. When I looked over it, it was so descriptive that I forgot that I was the one there. I felt like I was reading some smutty romance novel and not a story I wrote about something that had happened only a few hours before.
I can't even think too hard about it or I'll...
I open my laptop and click through my groups of tabs to find where I last opened my blog. The front page didn't look like it had any errors and everything seemed to be working fine so I finally go to click through my analytics.
My heart drops through my ass as I stare at the screen. "What the fu—" my words catch in my throat as I watch the numbers rise and I contemplate the idea of it being some kind of glitch.
The comments are up by thousands, the likes are up by millions, and the site views are up to the tens of millions. It's like he was the golden number.
"He made me famous overnight..." my voice trails off as I continue to try and piece together what could have made him so special. Is it his tattoos? Is it how deep I went with the story? Was it his name?
I slide my hand across the desk's surface and grab my phone off the charger. I watch impatiently as it powers back on and at least a hundred messages buzz onto my screen. I have several missed calls and texts from Rooks, multiple missed calls from unknown numbers, and my email is reading 99+, which is crazy for someone who checks their email every day.
My heart is pumping. I don't know what to do. I've never felt so overwhelmed in my life. I can only imagine the payout from something like this, and considering that the numbers are still rising, I don't know if I want to think about it. I take a deep breath and decide to stand up and take a nice walk around my room while I call Rooks and hopefully figure out what happened.
