When I wake up my phone has died and the screen is black. The apartment is uncomfortably warm and I peel myself out of bed, plugging my phone in and going to take a cold shower.
When I get out I feel a little bit better, I set up my laptop by the window with a glass of iced tea and I spend my morning sitting and writing. I'm currently working on a script, actually I'm in the editing stage, the final editing stage. It's practically ready for the screen, if only I had the money and the means to make it a reality...
My phone lights up on the bed-side table where it's plugged in. I set my laptop down and go over to check it. I laugh and respond,
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I set my phone down and smile a bit. Jake looked cute in the shirt and I'm glad he found the note. I can hardly remember what I wrote anyways, it feels like that evening we spent packing together on the floor is so far away. I shake the thought out of my head and return to my writing.
...
I wake up to my phone ringing and realize that the warmth of my apartment and my deep seated hatred of the editing process had put me to sleep. I rush to grab the phone and put it to my ear, just glancing at the caller ID.
"Hey, hi, Jenna, hi." I say sounding confused as I'm still pretty groggy,
"Hey babe... I'm so sorry honey." She sounds sad, I furrow my eyebrows,
"What? Wait what's up? Sorry for what?" I ask, she gasps quietly.
"Shit. I thought you saw, oh damn I suck. One second." She says, just then my phone dings and i glance down to see a text from her. It's a link to a tabloid article.
Jake Gyllenhaal argues with new "London Lover"
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