*This books is rated M for Mature due to graphic sexual references and some profanity.
If you've ever wanted to know exactly what it's like to be Zac Efron's girlfriend, this story gives you a chance to find out.
This book, told from the perspective...
As fashion week approached, I had to head back to New York for a few weeks to prepare.
Before I went, I really wanted to steal a weekend away with Zac - a surprise, for just the two of us. I was dying with excitement and had every detail accounted for.
He wasn't going to make it that easy on me.
"Baby, can't we just relax a bit? Just chill out this weekend? You have to leave to go to New York on Sunday night. Why would you want to go camping in the middle of winter anyway?"
"I told you. It's more like glamping, and because it's really reallllllllly important," I said trying to pull him off the couch. "I need you to trust me," I said, invoking the same line he'd used to coax me into getting on a private plane destined for his parent's house all those years before.
This trip wasn't going to be unlike that one.
Once I was finally able to convince him to get in the car with me, I quickly drove us to a small, regional airport where we boarded a private plane bound for destinations unknown.
"Where are we going?" he laughed.
"It's a secret, but it's a short flight. Probably an hour."
"You're up to something, little lady. I can tell," he said as he motioned for me to sit on his lap.
"Why, yes sir, I am." I said sitting on his lap, draping my legs over the side of the chair and wrapping my arms around his neck.
"Vegas? Are we about to elope?" he asked.
I scrunched my face at him. "No. We are not going to Vegas," I groaned.
"But we are eloping?"
"Would you be opposed to eloping?"
"No. I just want to be married to you."
"Well, you never know what's in store for us on the other side," I winked at him.
We began our descent and Zac looked out the window, trying to figure out where we were.
"Are we in San Francisco?"
"For now," I smiled.
"Not even a hint?"
"Would you give me one?"
"I see your point," he laughed.
We got in an SUV that was already waiting for us, and after some difficulty getting my phone to connect to the car's bluetooth for navigation, we were off to a small town called San Gregorio.
"Siri, play Chance the Rapper," I instructed, which temporarily appeased him as we drove about forty minutes outside of San Francisco, turning into the driveway when we came across this unassuming sign.
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