i ignored his constant glances at me.
click. click. click. click.
i clicked my pen in time with the twitching in my eye.
i clicked in rhythm with the throbbing in my head.
with the voice in my head.
with the beat of my own love sick heart.
disgusting. what a vile thing love is.
disgusting, disgusting.
but yet here we are, at the mercy of the rules of the cruel game the delusional ones call love.
disgusting, disgusting.
dixon was staring at me very intently, i noticed. it's been quite some time now.
"is there are problem, alesha?"
"o-oh! no-not at all, david, dear."
annoying. i dismissed her with a curt nod. i knew she fancied me. at first even i was surprised, but given her pathetic excuse of a boyfriend, i suppose i would be somewhat appealing.
"commence break!" a crew man shouted as the last act shuffled off.
i quickly weaved my way through the crowd of underpaid and overworked editors, cameramen, and makeup artists.
i withdrew a small key from my pocket and slipped it into the lock of my dressing room and clicked it open.
i could finally escape from the prying eyes of fans and their expectations.
the mask i was forced into melted away.
my phone await, filled with far better options rather than to sit and watch that shit.
a quiet knock rang through the room. i quietly growled, reluctant to put the mask back on.
"enter."
the door swung open to reveal a very much tired simon.
simon
his eyes narrowed as i got closer. but i was only doing what they asked of me. come closer! get away!
i hated it. which was it, david? he drove me mad. gay or straight? which was it, david? like me or not?
which was it, david?
