Follow Me Back (complete first draft of the published book)

Chapter 2: #EricThornObsessed

Chapter 2: #EricThornObsessed

Eric opened Twitter  and pulled up the list of trending topics.

#EricThornObsessed
21.8 million tweets

"Shit," he swore softly, chucking his phone down on the bed beside him. Still third on the list. The damn thing refused to die. Couldn't all those stalker-iffic parasites find anything better to obsess about?

At least he wasn't first anymore.

He slumped backward against the headboard of the hotel bed. A lock shaggy, dark brown hair fell over his eyes, and he raked it away in annoyance, wrinkling his nose at the crunchy texture of leftover hair gel. He should have showered before bed. He'd put in another sixteen-hour day of publicity appearances yesterday, and he'd been too tired to do anything more than kick off his shoes and crawl under the covers by the time he'd made it back to his hotel room last night.

No point showering now, anyway. His daily workout began in 20 minutes, and his trainer would give him hell if he showed up late. Then again, his hairstylist would give him hell if he showed up in the makeup chair afterward with a tangle of matted-down, sweaty, hair-gel-caked disgustingness. Maybe he should hop in the shower just for a sec. . . .

A faint creak sounded from the other side of the bedroom door. Eric paused, and his spine went straight.  Someone was in his suite. Had he forgotten to turn the deadbolt last night?

He watched in horror as the door swung slowly open.

"Who's there?" Eric's lips formed the shape of the words, but there wasn't enough air in his lungs to make a sound. His eyes darted around the room, scanning for anything he could use as a weapon. Bedside lamp? No. Just wall sconces in here. No ashtrays, either. Shit! Maybe that ceramic vase over there-

"Eric? Are you decent?"

At the sound of the familiar voice, Eric squeezed his eyes shut in relief. He watched in silence as his manager, Maury, sauntered into the room.

"Dude!" Eric exclaimed, his heart pounding from the burst of adrenaline. "You don't even knock anymore?"

"Sorry kid. Were you sleeping?"

"No, I wasn't sleeping. That's not the point. This is my bedroom!"

Maury roved his eyes appreciatively around the well-appointed room. "Technically, this is a hotel suite paid for by your record label. And a very nice one at that."

"So we're not even going to pretend I have any privacy anymore?"

"Maybe hang a sock on the door if you're gonna have a girl in here."

Eric groaned and rolled over on the bed, burying his face in one of the pillows.

"Oh, come on, kid. Lighten up. It's a joke!"

"You're hilarious, Maury."

"I'll knock next time. I promise. OK?"

"Thank you."

"Anyway, I just got off the phone with social media. The #EricThornObsessed meme fell to number three overnight, so they want you to give it a little shot in the arm-"

"No!"

"What?"

"Are they crazy?"

"They just want you to do a little follow spree. Follow a few fan accounts. That should get everyone all riled up again."

Eric felt like he might throw up. Seriously? Did those words seriously just come out of his manager's mouth?

Maury looked back at him blankly. "What, Eric?"