Haze, Andrea Wolfe [english novels for beginners txt] 📗

Jack for that, but maybe I would pick on him for it someday.

It was as if I had known this man too well prior to ever meeting him.

I kept jumping back and forth between Spotify and Wikipedia, gobbling up every bit of information I could. When I heard a song from Once show up, I thought my playlist had gotten off course.

Nope. He actually had written one of the songs in the show and hadn’t told me! I had sat there and watched that whole play, not realizing that he had contributed to it.

I buried my head in my hands, my cheeks burning red with shame. I knew that Jack was successful, but he hadn't pushed it on me at all. Hadn't begged me to listen to material. Hadn't bragged that I was probably familiar with his work. His rants about the music industry never included his gigantic contribution to it over only a half-decade. He mentioned that people made a lot more money than he did off of his own work, but I just thought that was part of his whole the system is broken rant.

After realizing I hadn't even made a dent in the list of available material, I yanked the ear buds out my ears and set them by my nearly empty drink.

Don't let it get to you.

Jack was a complex guy. He had his reasons, I knew. I couldn't beat myself up over this. He said someday he'd show me stuff, that we'd have a listening party. He had broken down to me over the tragedy in his life, opened up that part of himself and given me a full view inside.

Wasn't the point of being in a relationship to give all of yourself to the other person? The good and the bad? Nothing but the real? I was vaguely reminded of prototypical wedding vows.

Maybe he was hiding from his work because it reminded him too much of his past. Maybe he just didn't care about introducing it to me. I would have kept thinking about the matter, but Jack popped back into the room. I abruptly closed Spotify, not wanting him to know what I had been doing. I didn't understand my desire for secrecy.

"Still in your robe, I see." He strolled toward me on the patio, glancing at the spilled contents of my bag on the floor, but not actually saying anything further.

"Hi, Jack," I said excitedly. "H-how was the meeting?"

"Better than usual. I will admit some aspects of the business are easier to deal with out here than in NYC."

"I see." I turned my head back toward the sky as Jack joined me on the patio. He leaned down and kissed me, straightening out my robe after he noticed that one of my breasts was exposed. "Oh, thanks," I said after he rose again.

"No problem. Wouldn't want you to be humiliated."

"You're so good at talking to women," I retorted.

His phone buzzed and gave it a cursory glance before putting it back in his pocket. "Do you still want to go to that party with Stacy?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," I admitted.

"Okay. Well, we're going to have to get moving then. Let's take a quick shower."

"That sounds just fine."

Jack stripped out of his business clothes before we walked into the bathroom, scattering them on the bed with little to no rhyme or reason. When he got to his boxers, he was already rock hard—and I wanted him really fucking bad.

By the time we were inside the shower, he was already inside of me.

***

"See, it's not so bad," Stacy said politely. "I know you hate these dumb things, Jack, but this place is pretty cool."

We were at one of those Beverly Hills mansions, the kind that they shot reality TV shows at. I was pretty confident that I had actually seen this specific place on some show I watched in the past. It felt like I could remember some overly drunk, washed-up star accidentally falling into the gorgeous pool.

That sort of thing just got the ratings, I guess.

"Yes, it's not that bad," Jack said sheepishly. "You're right, okay? Let it go."

Stacy gave him a smile that ought to have been on the cover of a magazine. "Did you guys try that dip over there? It's like jalapeno-cheddar or something. Really good."

Jack and I both shook our heads and eyed the table that she was referring to. "I want another drink, actually," I said.

"Me too." Stacy smiled and motioned for me to follow her. Right as she did that, some guy tapped Jack on the shoulder and started talking excitedly. He was probably someone I should have recognized, but I wasn't going to get too caught up in it. I hated to leave him stranded like that, but then again, my Hollywood hero was pulling me toward more alcohol.

The best sort of distraction.

She grabbed us a couple more glasses of champagne and toasted me after I had a matching glass in my hand. "How do you like this stuff?" she asked, her question vague and nebulous.

"The wine?" I asked, staring back at her. As usual, she looked incredible, beyond beautiful, if that was a real thing. I still found it almost impossible to believe that Jack thought I was prettier than her.

But that's what he said...

"No, no. This. Hollywood. California. Whatever. It's got to be a little weird for you."

"I suppose it is," I said. "I'm glad to be experiencing it."

"Oh shit, there's George Clooney," Stacy said, pointing over toward the corner. It was, in fact, George Clooney. "He's really nice."

"Whoa. No kidding." He looked incredible in person.

"Do you want to meet him? C'mon." She took my arm and pulled.

"No, no, no," I contested. "I can't meet him." I suddenly got really self-conscious after realizing that fighting her would only draw more attention to little old me. So I went.

"George!" she said boisterously, cutting off the conversation that he was already engaged in. "How are you?"

"Oh, Stacy! What a pleasure!" They hugged,