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NINETEEN
the expense of fame
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"WAIT, SO YOUR father is the Samuel Callahan?" Zeke asked with a raised brow, drumming his fingers on the table.
Somehow, Dean had managed to wrangle his way into the curiosity of my friends and family.
I refrained from throwing myself out the door into the hands of the mob of paparazzi outside. Now that my mom had become aware of Dean's celebrity status, she'd push me to marry him.
I felt like a bratty child, resenting everyone's attention being solely on Dean when I was the reason he was here.
"Yes," Dean, affirmed, leaning back in his chair. "Sometimes it's a burden rather than a blessing." He look towards the door, where the clamor could still be heard.
His gray eyes reflected the tempest that brewed underneath, a storm that I had become familiar with seeing. Dean caught my gaze and gifted me a flirty smile that nearly melted underwear off.
I averted my eyes, focusing on a strand of unruly hair that suddenly became a lot more riveting than the conversation before me.
My mother laughed airily, as if it was the funniest joke she'd ever heard. The laugh was an illusion; Zara hardly ever laughed for real.
"I'd imagine so! They probably follow you around everywhere."
Dean scoffed.
"Welcome to my life. I'm not even sure how they found me here. They were definitely alerted of my location by someone because the rest of my family already flew back home following the club opening. In any normal situation, they would have followed them back home." He looked irritated, scratching the back of his head.
"They're not gonna keep following me around, are they?" I questioned. That was the last way I wanted to spend my summer vacation.
"Uhm," Dean mumbled sheepishly. "They're pretty unapologetic, especially around love interests of mine. Maybe if I talk to my dad, though, he can do something about it."
Great.
Now I had an army of photographers blocking my sun, and I'd be forced to walk around in pale hell.
I huffed, folding my arms.
"You can't tell them to just fuck off yourself?"
Besides, I wasn't even a love interest.
Or at least, I didn't want to be.
My mother eyed me sharply. "Sienna, the media following you wouldn't be the worst thing to happen. Maybe being in the spotlight would prompt you to watch your tongue."
