My Rockstar's World

Chapter 3

After finishing taking pictures of a newborn, I sit down at the computer and plug in the memory card to start editing photos. At least that was my last booked photoshoot of the day.

I've been working part time as a photographer at Pelgram's, a department store in the mall, for almost two years. It's not the most exhilarating job, but I am able to work on my camera skills. It's never super busy either, so I can even work on some homework if I have down time in between shoots and editing.

Once I spend time adjusting the lighting and adding the photographs onto the Just Born! cards, I send the final product along to the client.

Finally, I'm able to sit back and relax a bit. We do allow walk-ins, but people rarely show up. Not too many people are wanting to get their pictures taken in a clothing store. Just in case they do, I'm not able to put away my equipment until the end of my shift, so I have about an hour to kill.

I take another two Advils to help combat the headache that is still lingering from this morning's hangover. I'm not usually one to get absolutely trashed each weekend, but I knew going into last night that this horrible feeling the next day was going to be inevitable. At least it didn't catch me by too much of a surprise when I woke up with my head pounding.

And I didn't throw up. Always need to look at the positives in life.

For the first time since lunch, I pull my phone out of my bag and see a message from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hey, are you free tonight?

Unknown number texts and spam calls are really getting out of hand. No, you can't steal my information. I'm really getting sick of these. I'm really surprised this one didn't start by saying he was my long lost cousin in desperate need of me to send him money while he's stranded in the Sahara Desert.

As I go to delete the text and block the number, a small feeling of intuition (or more like hope) makes me stop and think about the possibility that this could be Bawdy.

My heart rate increases at the thought of the possibility. Could he really have taken the time to text me? Am I dreaming?

I decide to hang onto my small ounce of hope and respond. Maybe it's someone whose number I never saved. They must not have been that important then.

Gianna: Hey, sorry, who is this?

Unknown: How many guys did you give your number to last night. Thought I was special.

I haven't given my number out to anyone in months besides to Bawdy last night. My worries start to creep in, and I imagine him just taking off the bracelets and throwing them away like the useless plastic they are. Someone else could have found them and is messing around.

Gianna: That didn't answer my question.

Unknown: Bawdy, babe.

I feel the heat rush to my cheeks. This is just too good to be true. I'd feel even more special being called babe, but that seems to just be how he addresses all girls. Probably another reason why everyone is obsessed with him.

As someone who can worry myself sick, I can't just jump up and down and accept that this is really him. I wish that I had more trust in people, but I've been deceived one to many times in life.

Gianna: Prove it.

Bawdy(?): I didn't take you as the commanding type. Will this do?

Attached with the message is a picture of him holding up his wrist with my bracelet on. Just my bracelet on. The other ones are no where to be seen. His hair looks messy, and it looks like he's still lying in bed. It is almost 5:00pm, but I doubt he even made it home before the sun went up.