Watching it again brought back the feeling of shame and humiliation I felt standing in the middle of the street with flour all over my clothes. I didn’t think they would catch the part where I cursed about my coat but they did.
The comments were filled with people’s opinions on that. Most people thought I was vain and selfish for only caring about my outfit when I had just ruined someone’s relationship and the minorities were just laughing about how hilarious I looked with the flour all over my skin. And let’s not forget the occasional racist comments talking about how I was finally ‘white’.
Olivia called my parents to tell them that I was fine and I just needed time to process and come to terms with everything that was happening. My mum sounded dejected that I wouldn’t talk to her but I couldn’t bring myself to worry about her too much.
I love my parents and I love how they get worried about me and how they like to treat me like a kid sometimes and take care of me. I love how they get concerned when there is any controversysurrounding me but this isn’t like the other times. This isn’t business related that I chalk up to assumptions and rude customers.
This is about my personal life and someone had to tip them off or at least feed them the wrong bait for them to come to this conclusion. There is no other explanation as to why it took them two years to realize I was dating someone and to get the details of our relationship wrong.
I have been refreshing my phone every ten minutes to check if there have been any new articles or unnamed sources adding to the story. I couldn’t sleep all night because of this. Any small sound would wake me up and I would reach for my phone thinking that someone had said something new.
It pissed Olivia off and she threatened on more than one occasion to throw my phone into the pool. I had to put my phone on silent but it didn’t stop me from waking up every hour just to check. Call me paranoid, but I’m just watching out for myself and for my reputation. So far, there is nothing new. It is just the same baseless story that people are talking about and giving their opinions on. Joseph hasn’t said anything about it either.
Olivia had to go to work today. We woke up around the same time and I made breakfast while she got ready for work. After she left, I realized that I didn’t want to be at home alone either, so I took a bath and got dressed to go to a downtown café.
I put on black leggings, a plain black crop top and a cute flannel shirt over it. I paired it with black and white sneakers and after tying my braids in a cute half up and half down hairdo, I grabbed my car keys and left.
As much as I wanted to go to my usual café, I knew it would be risky. I’ve been seen there a number of times and as I am number one on the media’s most wanted list, it is in my best interest to stay away from places I would usually be photographed. At this point, I could honestly think of relocating to the country.
I’m kidding, over my dead body. I’d rather be flour bombed a million times than actually spend ten minutes in the country.
I used Google maps to find a really cute bookstore/coffee shop. The reviews were great; a lot of people spoke about how it so quiet and it is a great place to just disappear for a few hours. I ended up parking a block from there and walking the rest of the way.
I was pretty impressed when I saw the outside. It has red brick walls and just gave off a cool, homey vibe. I walked into the building and on the left was the coffee and pastry shop. There were different pastries being displayed, from cupcakes to mini tarts and cookies to doughnuts and scones.
Then to the right were rows of books for as far as the eye could see. They were cataloged by genre. Right by the door was the Romance section, which considering the amount of people there- is the most popular one.
I made my way to the coffee shop and placed an order for a hot chocolate. They told me I could have a look around while they prepared the coffee.
I browsed through the shelves, but nothing caught my eye and I found myself back in front of the romance section. I noticed a girl looking at me from a distance and I muttered a small prayer under my breath that she didn’t know who I was. The last thing I want is to cause a scene here. I actually like the place. She walked over to me and I tried my best to pointedly ignore her.
She looked the stereotypical part of a bookworm. Black sweatpants and a grey hoodie paired with black sneakers. Her mousy brown hair was in a messy bun, she had thick glasses resting on her nose and she had three books in her arms. I almost laughed at how cliché the entire scene was.
“You look a bit lost.” That wasn’t what I was expecting her to say, “I could recommend some books to you if you want.”
“I don’t read much.”
“Just try it out, one book; you might love it.”
She had a look in her eyes that was both pleading and challenging so I sighed, “Fine, what do you suggest?”
“What are you into, fantasy, Romance, Sci-fi or Paranormal? Do you like short books or long books?”
“Just pick one.”
She thought long and hard and then her face lit up and I swear if this was a movie, you would have seen the light bulb appear over her head. She gestured for me to follow her as she browsed the romance section and then she saw what she was looking for. She pulled a book off the shelf and handed it to me.
I turned it over and read the cover “The Kiss Quotient” by “Helen Hoang”.
I turned to her with a raised brow and she was quick to defend the book, “I promise that you will absolutely love this book.”
“If I don’t like it,” I said finally, “I’ll kill you.”
“Not a problem.” She laughed, “Just go check it out; I promise that you’ll like it.”
I sighed in resignation and paid for the book then picked up my hot chocolate and sat at one of the only empty booths in the shop. It was at the back of the bookstore and it was red and very comfortable. I leaned back and sipped my drink as I read.
I’m not going to lie; the beginning of the book intrigued me. The girl is a really wealthy autistic woman trying to explore hersexuality by paying for the services of an escort. Most books I hear about have the Cinderella effect. The girl is a poor helpless soul and the guy is this rich prince charming who is coming to sweep her off her feet. It has been so ingrained in society that it has started bleeding out into real life- look at me for example.
