21. Blakely
TWENTY-ONE
Blakely
I’m nervous.
My stomach is tied up in knots for a thousand different reasons, one of them staring me in the face as I try to explain to Kayla why I can’t go out tonight.
Anxiety pulses through me when I see it’s six thirty, which means there’s only an hour and a half until Jackson picks me up. I need to start getting ready, but when Kayla called on my way home from Donahue Motors, I let it slip that I was getting in an evening workout and she sped over, wanting to “try and emulate my dedication.”
“Girl, come on, you’re practically a stranger these days,” she groans, upping the speed on her elliptical.
I laugh. “I saw you yesterday for lunch.”
“Yeah, but that was a paid gig. It doesn’t count.” Her nose scrunches.
I blink at her. “Why doesn’t it count?”
She huffs, her breaths coming in short pants as her legs swing back and forth on the machine. “It does, I guess, it’s just a little annoying is all. Everything is about you when we’re out for something like that. The cameras, the attention…”
She trails off and I roll my eyes, ignoring the way my chest pinches from her statement. I should be used to it by now. This isn’t anything new coming from her. She’s full of passive-aggressive comments that make me feel like shit for being good at what I do.
I love Kayla, but sometimes I have to dim my own success to make sure she shines, and it puts me in an awkward position. On one hand, she’s my best friend and I want her to have the world. On the other hand, it’s not my fault she doesn’t put in the work, that she thinks her family name is enough to get by. She wants the fame, wants the recognition of being known just for being known, without realizing there is no such thing. There’s only the perception.
She believes in the lie of fame coming easy, instead of being the one who helps sell the lie to world, and you can’t master the game if you’re a pawn on the board. Instead, she chooses to ride on my coattails, letting my celebrity prop her up to bask in the spotlight. The spotlight that hides my blood, sweat, and tears in its shadow.
And because she’s my only friend, I let her.
Sighing, I up the incline on the treadmill, relishing in the burn that eats through my leg muscles like acid. “Look, I can’t tonight. I’m just…tired. Working at Dad’s company really steals any free time and this is my only night to chill .”
“Maybe you should tell your dad you’re not willing to be his bitch anymore,” she snaps.
Sadness weaves its way through the holes in my heart at the thought of not being at Donahue Motors anymore.
At not seeing Jackson.
She’s not wrong though, allowing my dad to feel like he has control over my life puts a damper on my productivity, making it a thousand times harder to grow in my career.
The one he doesn’t believe exists.
I could easily move out. I’m a self-made millionaire from branded posts alone, but the thought of being on my own sends a shot of fear rippling down my spine.
My dad and I are ships passing in the night, but at least if I’m home, he’ll acknowledge that I’m there. That I’m his daughter.
At least if I’m home, he won’t forget I exist altogether.
“Hello? Earth to Blakely.”
Jerking out of my daze, I realize that Kayla is off her elliptical, standing in front of my treadmill and snapping her fingers in my face.
How long was I lost in my head?
Glancing at the calorie counter on my watch, I slow my speed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to zone out.”
She laughs, shaking her head, her eyes wide with disbelief. “I wish I could zone out like that, maybe then I wouldn’t despise every second I spend on that dreadful thing.” She glares at the elliptical. “Is that your secret?” She looks back to me, putting a hand on her hip.
“What secret?”
“You know…how you work out so much. I don’t remember the last day you took off.” She pauses, her eyes scanning me from top to bottom. “Even bodybuilders take a rest day.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip, my stomach rolling as I slow to a stop and hop off the treadmill. “I don’t know.” I shrug. “I just like being healthy. It’s important to me.”
Kayla’s usually the one person who defends my habits whenever we’re around people who like to nitpick—who like to pretend they know what’s best for my body, instead of minding their business. But right now, I feel her judgment seeping into my pores and it makes my soul curdle, wondering what nasty things she must be thinking.
I grab my bottle and guzzle, the cool water chilling my throat and chest, distracting me from my thoughts. There’s a post-workout high that buzzes through my body, my limbs like Jell-O and my head floating, and I focus on those feelings instead of where my brain wants to go.
What Kayla thinks doesn’t matter.
If I say it enough times, maybe I’ll start to believe it.
“You sure you won’t hit the club with me tonight? Final answer?” She sticks out her bottom lip and walks to the corner table, plopping down in the chair, her brunette hair flopping in its bun.
I shake my head, twisting the cap of my bottle closed. “I’m sure.”
“Okay,” she sighs, leaning against the wall and looking around. “Where’s Lennox? Maybe he’ll go since you’re ‘taking the night off.’”
A smile creeps on my face. “I don’t know, probably relaxing until I need him.”
“I bet I could help him relax.” She winks, her brows wiggling dramatically.
Laughing, I toss my sweaty towel in the dirty bin. “You’ve gotta give it up. He’ll never give in.”
She grins. “Giving up isn’t in my DNA.”
“If you say so,” I giggle.
Her phone chirps and she’s momentarily distracted, reading something on her screen. Popping up from the table, she grabs her purse and spins toward me. “Well, you’re in luck. My plans have changed.”
My brows jump. “Oh?”
“Yeah. Gonna go hang out with Jacob. ”
“Who’s that?”
She waves her hand. “He’s not important yet. I’ll let you know when he is.” She blows me an air kiss. “See ya later, babe.”
I blow out a breath of relief as she saunters out the door, my mind racing with visions of what it would be like if Lennox did go out with her tonight, leaving me truly on my own for the first time in my life. No bodyguard at my side watching my every move.
Solitude is yet another thing that’s only an illusion in my world.
It’s never bothered me before. When you’re used to living a certain way, you become accustomed to it, never questioning the things you may be missing.
But for the first time, there’s a reason for me to hate the shadows that linger at my back. A reason for me to wish I weren’t rich. Weren’t well-known.
And that reason is Jackson Rhoades.