Orabelle Coast, also known as Ora, the lead singer of Flowers for the Freeloaders, the hit band that took the world by storm with their dyed hair and vintage clothing, hasn't known much outside of her life in the spotlight.
In hopes of getting a big...
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A noise jolts me awake.
Drowsily, I call out, "I'm comin', I'm comin.", only then I see on my phone that its 5 in the morning.
Grumbling, I grab my black robe off of the small beat up stool next to my nightstand, kicking away Poohs toys away, the squeak of a small yellow ball causing the small shi Tzu to perk up from his little red bed next to my own.
I adopted Pooh 2 weeks ago at a small farm in Kentucky while on tour, his brown watery eyes enough to make want to pay extra on the plane ride for an extra large kennel for the smallest dog I've ever seen.
Cooing at him, I slip into the black robe and click open the door, creaking to reveal none other than Dreyden Crow.
Dyed red hair and icy blue eyes, it's enough to give me a second to stop and look at him.
Mostly at his beautiful icy eyes, only now, they're currently glaring at me.
I move to give him a kiss, but he simply pushes past me and barely gives Pooh a glance, who growls at him, never having been a fan of Dreyden Crow.
Closing the door, I lean on it as I quirk an eyebrow at him, "What? No hi? Good afternoon? I love you, beautiful goddess?"
Dreyden only answers by sitting down in the small stool next to my bed, his glare anything but loving, "When were you going to tell me about Los Angeles?" he pushes his red hair back carelessly, "Where you just going to disappear and leave me to take care of the mutt?"
Pushing off the door, I match his glare, "If I remember correctly, you're also going on tour and guess who I heard it from? Definitely not you." I walk to the small kitchen in the corner and pull out cereal from the cupboard.
Dreyden makes an incredulous noise behind me as I hear the stool creak under him, "That's completely different! Mines in a month and youre leaving in how many hours?" he growls, "You're being so...so.."
I smirk at him as I plop onto my comfy chair, my cereal laid out in front of me on the small dining table cramped in the corner of my obviously small apartment.
The first time Dreyden came over, he had been incredulous, looking around the small apartment, wondering how the lead singer of a popular band like mine, could possibly live in such a small miniscule apartment in Manhattan.
Let's just say I don't like bragging about my salary like, say, Caroline does with her Balenciaga bags and Chanel perfume.
Dreyden can obviously see that at this point, I'm not even listening.
To be quite honest, it always has been like this: Dreyden yelling at me and me not even bothering to listen to his whining.
It happened when I left during our anniversary dinner, when I brought Pooh home, and when I didn't bring him to a luncheon with the girls.
