Chapter 2 | Anxious
I picked up a tabloid from Paul’s cluttered car and it stated ‘Lily Blair Evans brags to Australian reporter about her millions and how she doesn’t compare to any other actresses.’ First off, that was a lie. Second, I would never do that. I was humble. I am humble. I did not go around talking about the millions I made or how many magazine covers I had been on. Kathy made me look like I was a devious star that thought the world revolved around me. She would sell false stories about me and then lie to me about them. She was repulsed of the fact that she would never be as famous as or rich as I was.
Yeah, she was an appalling mother, but if it weren't for her, I would not have been the most known celebrity in the world. She made me, but she treated me as if I had to take care of her—she deserved nothing. The only reason I dealt with her crap was because I was a minor—and getting emancipated was too much of a hassle. The day I turn eighteen, I never want to see her face again.
It was Saturday and Paul took me to a burger place called, In & Out. He knew I hated that place—not because it was a cheap fast food place—I just preferred Jack in the Box ten times more. I did not buy anything, but Paul forced salty fries into my mouth saying I had a long day today with crappy business people and they weren’t going to feed me.
I did not know who Paul was gossiping about but all I noticed was his mouth full of fries with ketchup on his lips—it turned me off. I just dazed off while staring at him—he probably thought that I was listening to his crap. I just nodded and smiled as I always did.
I caught myself drifting away again—thinking about who I was. Who am I? I thought about why I was on Earth all the time. I also thought about why I was born such a wimp. I had a reoccurring dream about a man telling me to stand up for myself because one day someone would take advantage of me. He would say if I don’t do it now, one day he will curse me with black lily petals. He said that I allowed too many people, including Kathy, walk over me as if I were worthless. “You’re a pushover,” he said. I knew how to stand up for myself; I was just too afraid of the consequences.
As I came back to reality, I realized there were fifty paparazzi and fans zooming on me from outside—spotting my flaws. Seeing that I had no makeup on, seeing that I might have snot hanging out my nose, or seeing that I hadn’t changed my hair extensions since last month.
I touched my nose and nothing was there. Good. So, then why are they looking at me? Look at Paul, his mouth is full of fries and he’s overweight.
I began to breathe heavy as I heard deafening screams within my ears—but no one was there. I glanced at Paul—good he is still talking; he doesn’t notice I’m about to faint. My heart felt heavy as if it were about to drop out onto my lap. I was hyperventilating again and soon the room began to spin as if I were on that annoying teacup ride that all the little children love. I looked at Paul again and his voice began to get so loud. I wondered why it seemed as if he were yelling at me. I took my eyes off him and stared at the wallpaper on the wall, which seemed as if it were falling off little by little. I grasped the corners of the table with my sweaty hands as I felt the chair shaking from side to side.
“Uh!” I jumped in place, startling Paul—fries fell out his mouth and he jumped up out of his seat. I pushed him back down; we didn’t need to cause a scene while people were staring at us. “AHH!” I did not realize I screamed aloud again. People were really staring in my direction now. Eyes squinted and they weren’t just staring at me because I was a celebrity, but because all those magazine articles were right… she is an attention whore.
“Babe, what’s wrong?” he said as if he did not know. He knew exactly what was wrong. It was only the ten-hundredth time that happened that month. Paul knew me inside and out. He was the only one, besides my family that knew what happened at home behind closed doors. Everyone else saw me as the overrated celebrity who made too many films and won too many awards. As well as, that Lily Blair is a happy teen star, but Paul knew I was far from happy—I was in war within my inner self.
“Nothing,” I gasped, as I didn’t realize that I was hyperventilating heavier now. Paul grabbed my cell phone off the table with his messy fingers and pulled me to get up, but my legs would not move. They felt robotic—like from a horror film.
“Don’t look at anyone,” he whispered in my ear. He knew all the judgmental eyes on me, would frightened me to death.
Although I had been famous since I was six, I never got used to all the attention. All those people staring at me, what were they thinking about?
“Ugh,” I shouted again as I remembered the anxiety. Why did I glance out the window? I shut my eyes and tried to move my feet.
Now, all I could hear were whispering voices. Paul began pulling me to go to the restroom. My legs obeyed and began to walk this time—I kept my eyes shut and hummed. He punched the bathroom door open—well, that was what it sounded like and he sat me on the sink. I opened my eyes to Paul’s worried stare.
“Sorry,” I whispered and turned to see around the tiny bathroom—which was surprisingly clean.
“Oh my gosh! I knew we should have gone to the drive-through. I forgot how you get when—” I put my finger on his mouth, shutting him up. The one thing that annoyed me about Paul was that he talked too much.
I went into my purse and took a XANAX. It never really relaxed me, if anything it made me feel lifeless at times. “I can see the headlines! Lily Blair Evans is a psycho! But, it’s just anxiety; I promise.”
Paul always said I overreacted to those things, which was true, but how could I ignore the fact that I was judged with every action I took. I had plenty of that at home with Kathy. With her calling me demented every second and telling me I was a failure—everyone judged me.
“Thanks, Paul. You’re the best,” I said while I messed his sandy brown hair up as if I were petting a puppy.
He looked at the wall behind me and snatched a paper off it.
“What is that?” I said.
“Oh, nothing,” he said.
I grabbed the paper out his shaky hands. “Marlon?”
“I wanted to call…I mean keep the number in case…”
My eyes narrowed and I jumped off the sink. “Oh, I see.”
Paul twisted his warm fingers into mine. “We should go.”
Calmer, we walked out the bathroom. I just used my twin sister Leslie’s advice. She said, “When you feel like you’re going to have a panic attack or feel like someone is watching you, look at your toes and sing the alphabets…backwards.” Therefore, I did, but I did not realize I was saying them aloud. I am such a mess.
It took seven horrendous minutes to get to Paul’s car because of fifty people screeching at me and asking dim-witted questions. Paul knew how much I hated passing up fans who wanted autographs, but he pulled my wrist so I was not tempted to stop. I felt so dreadful—their eager faces were joyful to see someone famous and have my attention. I just whispered a low “sorry,” like they could hear me, but they read my lips and gave me a kind smile back. Their smiles made me feel a little better inside. They probably went back to their self-centered lives and blogged hateful things about me later—bastards.
When we got back to my home, an unfamiliar vehicle was on our lawn. My eyes panicked as I searched the expensive Mercedes Benz and I knew right away what was going on.
“What’s wrong now, Lily?” Paul rolled his eyes as he waited for me to get out the car. “Come on!”
“I don’t want to go in. I know what Kathy is up to. She invited some media people over...didn’t she?”
“I highly doubt it—”
“Why? She has done it before! She did it last week! She always sells my stories.”
“I promise, baby, Kathy didn’t bring a media person over,” Paul said as he pulled me out his car.
We walked at a snail's pace to the front steps of my faultless home and I couldn’t help but realize Paul was smiling as if he had won the lottery. I knew something was up s
o I walked quicker to the door. Before I could unlock the front door, Kathy slammed it open in delight.
“Lily, baby! Come on! Come on!” she said as she spun in her Gucci gown. “This is Dr. Summings. He would love to talk to you.”
“Uh, hi,” I said confused. “Is there something wrong?”
“No, of course not!” Dr. Summings said while laughing. He ran his hands through his white hair and guided me to my living room. “We just have some stuff to go over.”
“Like what?” I snapped as I searched the room for Paul who had disappeared.
“Well, like those test results you took a few weeks ago. You remember how you talked about seeing hallucinations and you hear things? I have the results from your tests. And the survey you gave as well.”
“Hmm, I don’t remember? I don’t know what you’re talking about?” I said confused as I eyed Kathy’s suspicious movements.
“Ooh doctor! See her memory is getting bad too. Didn’t we tell you?” Kathy said.
“We?” I looked at Paul who was standing in the kitchen and I knew he knew what was going on. “Paul?”
“Doctor, can we please hurry with this? Lily really has to get going to a meeting soon,” Paul said as he avoided my eye contact from the kitchen.
“Oh yeah, of course,” he nodded for them to leave the room. “I’ll go quickly so you can get going. I know how it is for you celebrities…work, work, work!”
“Yeah…what is it?” I said. “And I do remember that day,” I reassured him. “I was just…um kidding.”
Dr. Summings paused and bit his lip in uncertainty. I watched him play with his white beard as he searched through file papers. “Well, you were diagnosed with schizophrenia, Lily. And it’s okay, a lot of people like you have it. I don’t want you to worry,” he said as he pushed his body away from mine as if I were going to attack him.
“Me? Schizo? No, you are mistaken! I’m not crazy! Schizophrenia is worse than bipolar. Kathy is bipolar and there is no way in hell that I am crazier than her!”
“No, no…let me explain this to you. You’re not crazy. You’re just different. Lily, are you listening?” he said as I began to walk away.
I loosened my ponytail and tried to control my breathing. “I don’t believe you,” I rolled my eyes as I stared into space. “I’ve just had an anxiety attack a few times that’s it.”
“Ookkaayy, Lily,” he said, mocking me as if I were an idiot. “Whatever you say.”
“Do not talk to me like that! You’re not funny!”
“I’m not going to argue with you. I have no idea why you’re so shocked. I mean, you were diagnosed when you were a child but it’s gotten worse as you have aged since you haven't been getting help.”
“No I wasn’t! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“I’m just going by the papers I have. It just makes complete sense. Especially, considering what happened to your twin sister—”
“THAT WAS AN ACCIDENT!”
“Trying to cut your sister's wrist five times is no accident!” he snapped. “You're lucky your mother didn't send you away!”
“I wish she would have! I would rather live with my father than be stuck here in this hell called home! She only kept me here because I'm famous. She doesn't care about me.”
“Lily, you have been going through various screenings for the last three years and the only explanation is your mental disorder is getting worse!”
I laughed. “So, what now, DOCTOR? Are you gonna medicate me like every other druggie celebrity? I don't approve.”
“You don’t need to worry about medication if you do not want to get better,” he said as he packed his things to leave. “But, here is your prescriptions in these boxes if you do care.”
“Seriously?” I read the label on the medication bottle. It was a high dosage anti-psychotic medication.
“You don’t need to take those pills that you had for your anxiety anymore. These should help you.” With rickety hands, Dr. Summings handed me some pamphlets and my diagnosis paper. “You have a good day now and I pray you don't become a bigger problem.”
Paul and Kathy came down, so I assumed they were listening the whole time.
“Bye Paul and Kathy!” Dr. Summings winked as he walked out the house.
I slammed the door shut and walked over to Paul. “How does he know you, Paul?”
“We met a few times,” Paul said.
I threw the medical papers on the couch and pushed him in the chest. “A few times?” I knew what that meant. Paul was my undercover “friend” who was supposed to act as if I were normal and in secrecy he would treat me like Kathy!
“Enough questions! We have to go to your meeting!” Paul grabbed my handbag and pulled me out the house.
I stumbled into his car and crossed my arms like an irascible child. “So, was that a joke? Seriously…you don’t think I’m crazy?”
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” he smiled as he put his seat-belt on. “You’re not crazy.”
“I thought you believed me when I said I didn't mean to hurt Leslie. I was sleepwalking or something. You know that! I don't even remember those times!”
“I know.”
“All I remember was waking up to her screaming and blood everywhere. I never wanted to hurt my sister. I think Kathy framed me so she could separate us. She hated our bond.”
“I know you love your sister, Lily.”
“Okay, so then what was that about? Did he tell you to hide my meds and give them to me in my foods?”
“Ha, no. I would never do that to you. It’s just a silly diagnosis that Kathy probably wanted so she can seem like the normal one in the media. End of story…let’s talk about something else,” Paul insisted, as he buckled me in like a child.
It was obvious that Paul was hiding something. I could have asked a million questions and nothing would have been answered. I trusted Paul, so what he said I believed. It made sense too—Kathy would hire a doctor to make me out to be the crazier one. She would probably sell my story to the media too. Ha, I knew all her tricks—Paul was so right. I just couldn’t believe Kathy would stoop so low for a few bucks from the media.
Paul began driving like a maniac on the run. He had to be going at least eighty miles per hour on the city’s busiest street. I just put my head between my knees and then put a cigarette in my mouth—not lighting it of course.
“Lily,” Paul whined, the tone I hated most. He always used that tone when he was worried about something.
“I know. I need to see a therapist for my anxiety too—” I answered him before he could finish his thought.
“No…well yes, but why do you do that?” Paul’s tone changed to the better-off tone I loved.
“Do what? My head between my knees?” I took a fast glance up at him, but I noticed he was still speeding down the highway and I put my head back between my knees.
“No baby, I know why you do that,” he said. ”The cigarette in your mouth—why do you do that? Why not just light it and smoke it already?” Paul’s tone changed; this time he sounded angry, as if my issues annoyed him.
“Um…I don’t know; it’s just a habit I guess,” I said as I glanced at him and realized we were in the parking lot already. I put my legs on the floor and faced Paul’s curious eyes.
“Hmm…weird habit, eh? Funny your mom does the same thing.” Paul got out the car and walked toward me. He was still talking as he came over to me, as if I could hear everything he just said.
“I guess?” It sounded more like a question rather than an answer. I got out the car, slicking back the hairs that stood up.
When we entered the Black Building, it was so quiet that it was unbearable—I could only hear the secretary, Barbara, chewing her gum. I felt like belching out a scream, but people already thought I was outlandish, so I did not.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Barbara said, with her thick New Jersey accent.
“Hi,” I said as my nostrils flared up at her ho
oker attire.
She winked and I swear I saw traces of glitter fall to her top lip. She tugged on her short brown curly hair with a red rose on the side and pushed up her breasts in her tight shirt. “Check this out.” She leaned over her desk flashing us her huge engagement ring.
“Oh my,” Paul and I both said as we ran to her desk. Paul shoved me to be the first to see the huge diamond.
“Yup, he finally proposed after seven years,” she whispered so low I could barely understand her.
“Wow, that’s so crazy! I don’t deal with guys anymore. They're too much drama,” I said as I did not realize I was loud—the security guard cleared his throat.
“Well, you’re still young, and I’m…thirty,” she hesitated on the thirty. Both Paul and I knew what she meant—around here, thirty meant forty. We all laughed after that.
“Well, baby if you stop being such a workaholic, you would find someone and move far from Kathy and—” I cut Paul off because he was speaking about my business. I looked over at the security guard—he was getting nosy—I could see him leaning into our conversation.
“Yeah, five films a year, that’s a lot. Oscars will be here forever. You should take a break from Hollywood,” Barbara grinned and sat back down in her chair.
“Hmm…break? But what would I do on a break?” I leaned in closer to Barbara, waiting for a response.
She paused for a second, thinking of what to say. “Hmm…how about focus on school—” she continued typing and chewing her gum.
“School? I’m not in school anymore.”
“Go to Paris or something...you have millions to spend!” Paul exaggerated. I elbowed him in the gut because he was talking loud again—even though no one was in the building but the security guard. “I wish I was like you. All I need is my big break as a photographer. And I could travel the world!”
“Ha, yeah right. You always cut the heads off my pictures. You will never be a famous photographer,” I teased.
“Well, damn, can a boy dream?” Paul snapped. “Not everyone has it like you, Lily. You should leave to Paris and do us all a favor.”
“Yup, that sounds exquisite,” Barbara, said as she continued typing. “Wish I were you, Lily.”
I didn’t know if I should have taken that as a gesture to leave because I made her and Paul angry or if they just didn’t care anymore.
“Well, I have a meeting. So, send Paul and I an invite to your wedding,” I smiled trying to ease the awkwardness.
“But it’s early, Lily. Let’s stay here and gossip with Barbara,” Paul said.
“No,” I snapped, getting annoyed with him. I did not want to be late to my meeting—I was never late. I always came off professional. I wondered who taught me that—Kathy sure did not. “Well…I’ll go upstairs then,” I pouted as Paul ignored me and was already behind the desk, talking to Barbara.
I headed to the elevator alone. Time alone was good for me; I never had time alone these days. I always had someone in my face giving me crap. In disgust, I stared at my short figure in the reflection as the elevator went up. My legs looked odd in tight leggings and my vintage Madonna t-shirt barely covered up half my butt. I bent down and repositioned my Android cell phone that was in my boots. Since I didn’t have a huge rack like everyone else in Hollywood, the only place I could hide my phone and money was in my shoe—I know, how lame.
No one was there when I entered the quiet meeting room. I sat at the oversized oval gray table with at least sixty chairs, grabbed a script, and began to scan over it. But, I got sidetracked. I began thinking about who I was…again.
I walked to the window, which took up an entire wall—I just stood there, for who knows how long and glanced down at the busy city—I must have been on the fifteenth floor. My mind began to go haywire with unpleasant thoughts. I began to feel dizzy and it felt as if the ground was moving a bit.
I stepped back and then Dr. Summings came into my head—I knew he was probably some phony doctor, so I tried to change the subject. I dug into my purse and stared at my XANAX bottle that I took for my anxiety. I popped another pill like candy. Maybe I'm addicted to these pills. It doesn't do anything for me. The word addiction scared me. Especially in a business where everyone was addicted to pills; I put my XANAX bottle in the trash can. I covered the bottle with some tissue paper and took a deep breath.
I stared at the building across the street and I watched a mouse climb the wall. I began to get anxious as more and more began to appear out of nowhere. I shook my head in disbelief and they were gone. I took a deep breath and tried to convince myself that what I had just seen was real. Of course it was real—the mice must have just left really quick.
I felt at peace being alone—just to think and feel normal (I think the pills were kicking in—relaxing me). School was the only place I always felt ordinary because everyone knew me. I had to drop out in the spring because it did not fit my eccentric schedules. Around people in school, I was no Hollywood princess. I was just that girl with long dark hair, gray eyes, pasty looking skin, and the same height since sixth grade.
I remembered one of my oldest friends Cassie telling me, “You’re so lucky Lily, you have it made. You don’t have to worry about your future like the rest of us; you’re in your future.” I just said, “No I’m not, I would trade anything to be like the rest of you sometimes.”
I sighed coming back to reality. I really am considering Paris.
My phone vibrated; tickling my ankle—I checked to see whom the text was from—it was Paul.
PAUL: OMG! UR LIKE ALL OVER TMZ! UR SO RITE! KATHY DID SELL UR STORY. THEY R TALKING ABOUT HOW YOU WERE JUST DIAGNOSED WITH SCHIZOPHRENIA!!! EVERY1 KNOWS NOW! NO WORRIES THOUGH…WE KNOW THE TRUTH ;)
I didn’t bother to text him back. I felt relieved when I got the text. Relief that I was right—that I was sane, but also hate—hate that Kathy would stoop so low.
There was a knock at the door. A slender tall handsome man, about six foot three, interrupted my thoughts by bursting through the big red door.
“Huh!” He stared at me for a quick second, and then quickly brought his eyes to his feet. He had about twelve books in his right hand with Starbucks coffee sitting on top of them and a messenger bag in the other hand. The coffee and the books looked like they would fall at any moment. He took a quick glance at me with troubled eyes. He slicked his long dark hair back with his left hand, still struggling to get through the door.
Should I help him? I ran from the window and over to him. Without one word, I tiptoed to grab the coffee off the books and placed it on the table. His eyes narrowed at me. Hmm, did I have snot on my nose? I rubbed my nose. Nothing was there—I sighed.
He chuckled, “Aren’t you a bit early?” He threw the twelve books on the table and placed his messenger bag on the chair next to them. “You’re like really early.” He stretched his long arms and took a deep breath.
“Well…hmm…” I stared at him as he looked out the window. I observed that he most likely loved protein. His healthy black hair was greased back and shiny with no split ends. He had a nice suit that I thought looked pricey, paired with a black coat over it. He threw his thick black framed glasses on the table. He is well put together, maybe an actor or director.
“No assistant, I’m an assistant,” he said, as he turned from the window—his hazel eyes caught my attention.
“Oh,” I said puzzled by how he answered my thought—it caught me off guard—did I say that aloud? All the assistants I knew were sweaty and wore big red furry sweaters—I laughed to myself, thinking about Paul.
I got quiet, realizing I was laughing aloud; I wondered if he noticed I laughed to myself—he’s going to think I’m weird.
“Yeah, I expected you of all people to come like two hours later,” he said uninterested as he pulled a chair out and sat down. “I mean, Ana isn’t coming until five,” he made a disgusted face.
“Oh, Ana?” I asked trying to seem happy. When he said Ana, I knew right
away, whom he was talking about—Ana Billson—I did not fancy her. She made all Hollywood people look unappealing. Back when we worked together on some suspense film as children, she was the biggest diva on set. The only reason she was not fired was that her name alone sold big bucks. It was amusing because everyone expected me to be like her, but I was far from that.
“She’s in this film too?” I sat down a chair away from him.
“Hmm…sadly,” he sighed as he turned toward me, shuffling through the books.
We both laughed at his sarcasm. However, I did not mean to laugh aloud, but it would have been rude not to laugh.
He was not making eye contact anymore, but I could read his facial description—he looked vexed. As he looked up, his intimidating hazel eyes met mine. I looked away toward the window acting as if I didn’t notice him. Truth is I did notice him—and I wanted to know more.
“So, who are you? Well, what’s your name?” I turned my head a bit to him, not making eye contact.
“Well, I’m Jason. You are Lily right. Lily Blair Evans?” I could hear him stacking the books.
“Yup...well…yeah,” I changed my thought and began to shake as I felt him staring at me. I felt a warm drip of sweat fall off my nose. Gross—I thought of Paul again.
There was silence in the room. I took a quick glance back and he looked up at me and began laughing. Why was he laughing? This time I know there is something on my face. I touched my face but nothing was there.
“What?” I didn’t realize I had walked over to him. “What’s so funny? Something on my face?” I said in a spiteful tone.
“No. It’s just your facial expression,” he laughed. “It was so funny. You look so paranoid. I mean, I thought a ghost or something was behind me; I was about to run,” he began to laugh harder. “Nervous or something? I mean you already got the movie part, so chill out.” He pushed the books, which he put in alphabetical order to the side. I stood there in shock, not understanding him. Did my face really give away my fears? Wait, what fear…my fear of people? I laughed to myself again.
Paul busted through the doors with a box full of donuts, breaking the awkward silence. “Hey, the people are coming up,” Paul said with his mouth full of donuts. He hurried and sat down in the corner of the room. I saw him glance at Jason, and then he smiled at me. He gave me his I-am-up-to-no-good smile. I hated that smile.
Within minutes, the long table filled with actors, directors, writers, and assistants. Of course, an empty chair was there for Ana, but she never showed. When everyone filled in the table, Paul pulled his chair next to mine and began writing for me like usual—he knew me well and knew I could never concentrate right.
The meeting was nothing but a blur and all I could think about was Jason. I looked over at him; he was standing by the window writing everything the people were saying. I looked around the table and gave everyone a gentle smile but all I got were stiff actors who looked very unwelcoming, staring back at me. They were not well known but they had sure confidence—almost intimidating to look at. I had not realized I had a stupid fake Kool-Aid smile on my face until I looked at Jason and he chuckled at me—I frowned.
No wonder people always thought I was strange. I was always smiling like a fool. However, my happiness was forged. It could not compare to Jason’s—how he always had the time to laugh. He seemed so blithe, and so open-minded. Great, I’m thinking about him again.
“So, we’ll see each other in two weeks on set!” That was all I heard during the meeting. I glanced at the clock and it was already five. Everyone was shaking hands as they left the crowded room.
“Too bad Ana didn’t show,” one of the writers said.
“Oh, yeah, she ran into traffic,” Jason smirked at me.
Within four minutes, everyone left. I looked down at Paul and he was still struggling to write, so I sat back down next to him—it was the least I could do.
“Drifted off again, didn’t you?” he said.
“Sorry,” I said. I really was sorry.
“It’s cool! I’m used to it by now. Those pills make you a zombie at times,” he chuckled.
“I'm giving them up,” I said with my eyes half open. “I threw them away. I don't want to be the next dead celebrity because I overdosed on XANAX.”
“Why would you die from them?”
“I was taking them like candy and it barely made a change in me. Plus, they're highly addictive.”
“Did you read that on Google?” Paul laughed.
“Paul, let's be serious for once.”
“Well, are you sure you're okay without them? I think they were making you feel better.”
“Like you just said, I was basically a zombie on those pills. I would rather have a panic attack than barely keep my eyes open!”
“Good for you, Lily!” Paul kissed me. “Oh yeah, your daddy called about ten times today. Can you please do me a huge favor and call him back? For some reason he keeps thinking you’re dead.”
“He called me?” I never talked about my dad much. I mean, I loved him, but he was never there for me since the accident with Leslie. He was too busy with his “music career” in the United Kingdom.
“Sure I’ll call him,” I lied.
I looked up and saw Jason waiting by the window. “Um…you need something?”
“No…just…” he turned and looked at his shoes. Was he saying the alphabets backwards?
“Oh?”
“Well, yeah I was—” Nervous, Jason walked toward Paul and me and put his hands in his pockets. “I was wondering if—” Paul cut him off by adding his words.
“Lily was available tonight? She is!” Paul didn’t look me in the eyes as he answered for me. I am sure he knew how I would look—pissed and scared.
“Huh?” I looked at him in disbelief. I couldn’t believe he just said that.
“Well, that too,” Jason said as he moved from toe to toe and ran his fingers through his hair.
“Well, she is,” Paul gave a big smile as if he helped me out.
“Huff,” I couldn’t get my words out. It was as if I wasn’t even in the room.
“Well…it’s a date. Your house at seven?” Jason glared at me.
“Oh—” Paul butted in…again. “Oh no, how about eight?” He looked at me with a smile and then when he saw my face it dropped to a frown.
“Okay bye Lily, see you later!” Jason walked out the room.
My brain could not function right. A part of me was so joyful but another part was pissed. I smacked Paul on the arm. “You’re a loser!”
“A cool loser,” he winked and flexed his flabby arms.
“He doesn’t even know where I live!”
“He can ask someone. Everyone knows where you live,” he rolled his eyes. “This is California…everyone knows where celebrities live.”
I growled at him as he ran out the room laughing like a fool.
“What is the worst that could happen, Lily?” Paul said as he ran back to me. “It’s just a date.”
“But what if he’s a crazy stalker?” I said.
“I highly doubt it.”