Page 51 of The Heartbreakers
“These are all seriously impressive, Stella.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said in a rush, but then I stopped. “Wait. You—you think so? Because if this isn’t what you’re looking for, I can try to get some better stuff tonight.” His praise was exactly what I needed to hear, but I still couldn’t believe him. Part of my brain was convinced that I just wasn’t good enough.
“New stuff? Heavens no!” he said and laughed. “I’m more concerned that we have too much material. How am I supposed to narrow this down when it’s all so amazing?”
“Really?”
“Really, really.”
In the end we picked fifteen group shots, leaving out all the individual pictures I’d taken of the boys. Paul wanted the initial blog post to be simple, but there were at least twenty more pictures he wanted to use, so I already had material for next week. After showing me how to use the blog website and its different features, we added the images and spent an hour writing goofy captions.
“Looks good,” Paul said, scanning the page one last time. “I think it’s ready.”
I looked to him for instruction. “What should I do?”
He pushed the computer back over to me. “Hit the publish button, Stella. This is your blog. You should be the one to bring it to life.”
“Okay,” I said.
Okay, okay, okay.I repeated the word to myself to incite some courage as my finger hovered over the mouse. My whole body was buzzing—I was excited and hesitant at the same time. I’d never put myself or my work out in the world like this before, and once I clicked “Publish,” there was no going back.
“Stella?”
I cracked my neck. “Let’s do this,” I said, and then I slammed my finger down. I probably used more force than necessary because the mouse skipped across the table, but I didn’t care. A rush of adrenaline had flushed through my veins, and I couldn’t keep my knees from bouncing. It took five seconds for the file progress bar to go from empty to the bright blue of fully uploaded, and when it did, a new box popped up on-screen. It read:“The Heartbreak Chronicles” has been published.
I beamed at Paul. The blog—my work—was finally live.
“Take the weekend off,” he said. “You deserve it.”
Chapter 14
“Hey, Cara,” I said, when her phone went to voice mail. “I was just calling to tell you the blog is up, and that you were right. Paul loved the pictures. Give me a call when you get this. Love you. Bye.”
I hung up and tucked my phone away, my lips pressing together in a thin line. The first thing I’d done when I left the café was call my sister. When she didn’t pick up, I called Drew. He didn’t answer either, and after the thrill of posting my pictures, their silence was a letdown. I wanted to share my high, to let them know that I was starting to believe that accepting this job was the best thing for me, but what was the point of doing something exciting if I didn’t have someone to celebrate with?
Back at the hotel, I found the band in their suite.
“Stella! Get over here. Someone needs to tell these idiots that Thai food is ten times better than ordering boring pizza,” JJ complained.
“Oh hell no,” Oliver said. He snatched the Thai menu from JJ’s hands.
“Why not?” I asked, sliding into a chair next to Alec. “I could totally go for some pad thai right now.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Oliver said. “I love Thai food. It would totally hit the spot right now, but last time we ordered it, JJ stank up the plane with his poisonous gas. It reeked of spicy butt noodles.”
“Besides,” Xander added, “there’s not much I can order from a Thai place, allergies and all.”
I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “You guys order what you want. I think I just lost my appetite.”
“Fine, how about Mexican?” JJ suggested.
Oliver shot him a look. “How is that any better?”
In the end, the guys decided on subs, much to JJ’s dismay. When the food was delivered, we all sat at the kitchen table to eat. I’d ordered a sandwich, even though I wasn’t in the mood; I knew my stomach would grumble as soon as I saw the guys eating.
“Tuna-fish melt,” I said, reading off the order scribbled on the outside wrapping. Alec held up his hand and I passed it to him. Next I pulled out the salad, which I knew was Xander’s before he said anything. Then I grabbed another sandwich. “California club?”
“Right here,” Oliver said, raising a finger. He reached across the table to grab his sandwich, and our hands brushed as he took his food. I quickly yanked back. Ever since Wednesday, things were weird between us. We avoided being alone together in the same room, and all of our conversations were forced, like distant relatives who had nothing to talk about but were trying to be polite.
