𝐆𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐨. Model, actress, celebrity. At the age of 22 Gianna already has everything or at least that's what everyone thinks.
But in reality, her life couldn't be more of a mess. Where there's money there's alcohol, where there's pa...
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If I have to look at his piercing green eyes watching me through the rearview mirror once more I promise I'm going to lose it and rip that thing apart. Why the hell does that mirror need to be there anyway? To solely annoy me?
Exhaling to try and calm myself before I do something stupid and make us crash the car I take my phone out and go through my notes for today's photoshoot. The ones my mother texted me about ten minutes ago, I expected a long paragraph telling me how stupid I had been yesterday night or maybe a simple 'we need to talk' but to my surprise, the notes came alone. Maybe hell has frozen over and my mother with it.
Reading through the list I mentally check out the ones I had already done.
1. Have a light breakfast, it's a bikini photoshoot.
I didn't even have breakfast, so I pretty much mastered that one.
2. Remember to tell them not to touch your hair, that salt water they use to try and make beachy waves is absolute trash and so damaging.
Oh, I'm definitely going to remember this one, last time didn't I swear I thought my mother was going to gut the poor hairstylist who was only trying to do his job. He probably has severe trauma now, my mother can be a very scary woman when she wants to be.
Third to fifth is pretty standard stuff so I skip to the last one.
6. You are the star, not them, hold your ground and show them what you are made of.
She doesn't always include that one, it's actually been a while since I have last seen it. Yes, the exact same message, I'm pretty sure she copy-pastes it when she thinks it's necessary which makes the fact that I'm actually smiling at it even more depressing. Getting excited over a totally unoriginal compliment she probably forgot to delete from the last bikini shoot instructions text... you sure are pathetic Gianna.
"Are you okay?" Russo's question snaps me right away from my thoughts. And to my demise I find myself looking directly into his questioning eyes that can somehow read me like an open book.
"No one ever told you that asking someone if they are okay when you clearly know they aren't is like the worst fucking question to ask?" It always feels like a punch straight to the throat because it means that no matter how much you try to make it look as if you were perfectly fine you are just fooling yourself — hiding behind a lie everyone seems to be able to see through.
"My bad." Now those words somehow feel even worse, and the lack of emotion on them as he moves his attention back to the road completely forgetting about me hurt like hell.
He is trying to be nice and compassionate about my situation and I keep acting like a bratty child. Why does my brain have to be wired this way? Why can't I simply tell him I'm fine and thank him for actually caring instead of jumping at him as if he were my number one enemy? Why do I always feel the need to constantly be in a defensive mood?
