Ethan- Your blog is good. Better than good, actually.
Izzy- Thanks. Why are you reading it?
I know I’m kind of being a bitch but all of this is inappropriate. But I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t know where to start. All I know is I am not ready for him to find out about Jaxon and I don’t know if I ever will be.
Ethan- Because I need a writer.
I snort out a laugh at that.
Izzy- Are you offering me a “job”?
Ethan- Why the quotes?
Izzy- Because the last time you offered me a pity job it was with other intentions.
Ethan- Okay, first of all Isabelle, there were no intentions. The job I was offering you wasn’t out of pity, it was because you are a phenomenal writer. And second, everything else that happened was your doing too.
Izzy- I’m not working for you. And subscribers are paying readers, you know that right?
Ethan- And I paid. Maybe you should check your inbox. I’ll wait.
I roll my eyes. The fact he thinks he can tell me what to do is infuriating. The fact he is reading my blog and offering me a job that no doubt has a motive behind it is infuriating. The fact that he thinks he can come on here and get away with just paying—holy shit.
“Holy shit.”
“That’s a bad word!” Jaxon reminds me.
“Sorry baby…” I trail off before muttering a string of holy shits under my breath.
Because Ethan paid alright. But he didn’t just pay the weekly $7. He didn’t even just pay for a quarterly subscription or even a year. He’s the first person to hit the OTHER button on payment. And the amount is…infuriating.
Ethan- I feel like there should be elevator music playing…
Izzy- What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!
Ethan- …maybe the Jeopardy! theme song…
Izzy- Who do you think you are sending that kind of money?
Ethan- I think you meant thank you’ for liking my blog enough to send me five grand. We’ll call in the lifetime subscription. A steal if you think about it.
At this point I am seeing red and I am done. I press the call button and march down the hall, closing the bathroom door behind me.
“Hello Isabelle.” Ethan’s voice fills the phone and it fills me with a thousand mixed feelings.
“Take the money back. I don’t need charity.”
“It’s not charity.”
“Then what is it?” I snap. I’m trying to keep my voice down but it’s kind of hard considering I want to climb through the phone and strangle the man for just showing up in my life again.
“It’s just a couple grand. It’s not a big deal. And if you’re working at a clothing store and blogging on the side, that tells me you need it.”
“Are you…are you stalking me?”
“Of course not. But I did look you up,” he says casually, which only makes me angrier.
“Why? Did my dad ask you to?” I spit out.
