Stuck In Love (COMPLETED)

chapter-4

Sophie Esinberg's POV

I woke up to the incessant buzzing of my phone on the bedside table. Groaning, I reached out and answered the call.

"Get up. You have to get ready; it's Media Day!" a husky voice demanded through the line.

"I need some sleep," I mumbled, my voice croaking with exhaustion. I finished the sentence with a yawn.

"As your PR manager, I'm telling you to get up and get moving. I pulled a lot of strings to get you a spot at this press conference," he replied, his tone stern and unyielding.

"Scientists don't have PR managers. What are they going to ask me anyway? I'm no celebrity. I'm scandal-free," I grumbled, eyes still closed.

"I'm your self-appointed PR manager, and you're right. The media doesn't usually care about scientists. But this press conference is your chance to show the world why your work matters," he insisted, emphasizing the importance. That got me awake, but as soon as I opened my eyes, everything seemed too bright. I shut them again as a throbbing pain radiated from my temples to the back of my head.

Hangover, ughhhh

"Alright. Can I just sleep for ten more minutes?" I muttered, shifting on my bed and burying my face in the pillow, still holding the phone to my ear. For a moment, the darkness eased the pain, but it quickly returned.

"Sophie Esinberg, as your best friend, I'm warning you to get up and get dressed! I worked my ass off to get you this spot. All the celebrity nominees will be there. It's a huge deal," he said, his frustration clear.

He used my full name, which meant I had pissed him off.

"Yes, yes. I'm up. I'll get ready soon," I replied, finally mustering the courage to rise from the hotel bed. I walked to the window, where the curtains were wide open, letting the sunlight flood the room. I balanced the phone between my ear and shoulder as I used both hands to close the heavy maroon velvet curtains.

"I'm running a bit late, so I'll be there in about an hour. I'll meet you in the backstage room," he said, sounding rushed.

"Okay, and also—" He cut me off.

"I've got to go. Sorry. Bye, Kim. See you soon," he said, hanging up before I could respond.

Daniel was right. Despite my limited experience with the media, I could use Media Day to my advantage. If I could convince people that my project's cause was worthwhile, I might attract investors for my research and bolster my waning laboratory.

I had no idea how I was going to do it, though. The only places I'd ever presented my work were scientific conferences. Facing the media was a whole new challenge.

I stepped into the shower, the hot water cascading over me, a soothing contrast to the pounding headache from last night's excess champagne. As I closed my eyes, trying to wash away the blur of laughter and clinking glasses, his face invaded my thoughts with startling clarity. His ocean-blue gaze, penetrating and deep, seemed to pierce through the layers of my soul. His tousled dark blonde hair framing a smile that could disarm even the most guarded heart. The dimple on his right cheek, the curve of his lips. His jawline was sharp, every feature etched with a familiarity that both comforted and pained me.

With a gasp, I snapped my eyes open, a tightness gripping my chest as memories flooded in. Seventeen-year-old me, standing alone in my room at midnight, tears staining my cheeks as I stared out the window, hoping for solace that never came.

I rubbed my arms, the steam suddenly suffocating as I struggled to catch my breath- the weight of betrayal, the discovery that our love was nothing more than a cruel bet, spun my world into a dizzying whirlwind of humiliation. The weight of seven-year-old pain resurfacing like a tidal wave crashing over me- the echoes of laughter in the school hallways, the mocking whispers that cut deeper than any knife.