I Hope It Rains Marshmallows ❤

Chapter Thirty - I have a Mustache!

~Matthew~

“Please, no more questions.” I said, gnashing my teeth together. Unconsciously, my fists had been clenched up into balls. I tightened my lips together and forced a fake smile, turning to face the meddlesome reporters and cameramen.

They immediately stopped in their tracks, some bumping against each other.

“But Matthew is it true you intend to quit showbiz?” I heard someone shout from afar.

“Yeah!” Some others chorused in unison.

“What about your fans!”

“What are you planning to do then?”

I had the urge to pull out my hair. Ugh, just stop asking me questions already! It’s no wonder I decided to quit from this business in the first place. These paparazzi always stick their nose into my business. I need space too!

I swallowed hard. “No, it’s not true; I’m just taking a break. I’ll be furthering my studies. Okay, stop with the questions!” I half-begged, half-scoffed.

I turned and sped into the hotel, panting a little. But the reporters were relentless, and it was a matter of seconds before they’ll break into the lobby and charge after me with more questions. The hotel staff was already struggling to push them away but they were insistent on chasing after me. Freak, I’ll have to get up to my suite quick.

I jammed the lift button, praying that the lift will descend at a faster rate. I glanced from over my shoulder, only to see the paparazzi making a hassle and pushing their way towards me. I panicked. I can’t take this life anymore!

The lift doors opened, and thank god. I stepped one foot in, only to see an intimidated and totally underdressed girl cowering in one corner, her mouth gaping open.

I froze.

She was dripping wet and her curly locks matted on her flushed red face.  And the most surprising thing was that she was clad in a skimpy red bikini. She was strangely familiar; I just knew I saw her face somewhere before. But where? Exactly where? I focused on a glimmering little droplet rolled down her olive skin, my heart rate speeding up a little.

As if she saw that I was checking her out (which was what I totally wasn’t doing, or was I?), her hands automatically and self-consciously flew to her chest as she wrapped her arms around it, trying to cover whatever she could cover. Which wasn’t much anyway.

“D-don’t look!” She cried out, thrusting one hand in front of my face. She was shivering a little, was it because it was cold or she was startled?

I peeled her fingers away from my face and cocked my head to one side, my eyes fixed on her face, scrutinizing her. She squirmed a little under my uncomfortable stare and whimpered.

“Do I know you? You’re oddly familiar.” I narrowed my eyes at her, and I saw her blushing deeper. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“N-no.” She stammered, and her eyes drifted off to somewhere else but she definitely wasn’t staring at me. “But I k-know you! You’re Matthew Roberts!” Her eyes widened a little.

I rolled my eyes at her dramatically and flipped my fringe away from my face. “Obviously.”

Just then, an unclear picture of the girl I met in the taxi whizzed through my mind. I pointed my finger at her and my mouth formed an ‘o’ in realization. I clapped my hands elatedly and smacked my lips together. “Alyssa! That’s you, isn’t it?”

Thank god she wasn’t one of those crazy teenage girls I meet every day on the street that pounce on me. I could count on her, that’s for sure.

The buzz behind me grew louder and louder and the faint footsteps of the reporters developed into a stampeding rage. Uh-oh, I had to escape fast.