THE photos of Ryan were still on Abbie’s desk, right where he put them. She kept picking them up and going through them, but for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to put them back on the wall. She could barely even stay in her room with the wall looming over her. So she stayed in the office, working until she was too tired to work, so that she would just drop into bed when she got home. Then she was up at first light, out of her room and off to work again.
Abbie could tell that Owen was worried about her. He had stayed with her at the magazine more than once, brought her dinner. The only thing he hadn’t done was ask her to get some time off. But Abbie knew it was coming and soon. He had asked her yesterday if she was all right, and she had automatically answered, “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” And he had been surprised when she declined the assignment to Tennessee. “Give it to Franco,” Abbie had insisted. Franco, who was the photographer for the weddings and socials section, was more than happy to take the ticket with Noel.
“That’s it, Dunham,” Owen said at the end of the week staff meeting. Franco and Noel had left for Tennessee a couple of days ago. “You’re off. On holiday. I won’t have you in here for a week or I will fire you.”
“What? Why?” Abbie stammered.
“Because you’re not alright!” Owen threw his hands up in frustration. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you are not fine. You would never have given up Tennessee if you were fine. So you’re on holiday. One week.” When Abbie started to protest, he cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Not a request, Abigail. You’ll not be here on Monday.”
Abbie bit her tongue and swallowed her arguments away. Owen was the only one who called her by her full first name, and only when he wanted her to know that he was not going to take any crap from her. “You know you need me,” she couldn’t resist pointing out.
“I do,” Owen admitted, “but I need you at a hundred per cent. Not just physically, but in here, as well.” With a finger, he tapped his temple, then his heart. “And here most of all.”
“Fine,” Abbie finally said with a sigh. “One week. Then I’m back and I’m not taking another vacation until Christmas.” Owen just smirked at her as she turned away to get her things.
The Monday after that, Abbie didn’t know what to do with herself. She ended up going by the Natatorium to take some photos of people having swimming classes, until Ade texted her asking her to come home. When Abbie got home, there was a black limo parked outside the house. There was even a driver in a little cap leaning against the hood, going through his phone. She headed inside and called out to her roommates to ask if they knew anything about it. “Ade? Carly? What’s the deal with the hearse parked outsi–“ Her question was cut short when she found them sitting in the living room across from a guy in a suit. Her first thought was Oh, my God, somebody died. But the excited looks on her roommates’ faces quickly squashed the thought. “Oh, hello,” Abbie said, a puzzled look on her face.
The suit got up and introduced himself as a rep from Octagon, Michael’s sports agency, and went on to explain about the limo outside. Abbie listened to him with her mouth slightly open, while Ade and Carly sat fidgeting in the background. They were probably waiting to squee in delight and to be honest Abbie was pretty much itching to join them. But, being the more adult one, she had to contain her excitement.
“So, we’ll just wait for you to pack your things, and then we’ll head on over to the airstrip,” said the suit.
All Abbie could say was “OK” and then she practically dashed upstairs to pack. She heard Carly and Ade scramble up the stairs after a couple of minutes. They crashed into her room and that was when the squealing started.
YOU ARE READING
False Starts
FanfictionAbbie Dunham has known Ryan Lochte for eight years. She's seen him burp, barf, pick his nose, scratch his butt... So, no, there was no way she was falling for her best friend. Besides, she liked Michael. Phelps, of course. And when he asks her out...