Chapter 2
873 Words
Unlike the way I expected a celebrity to act, Asher wasn't nonchalant. He listened to everything I had to say about my love life with Michael.
“So what do you want? A break-up or revenge?”
“I can't break up with Michael,” I sniffed, “I can't take revenge on him either, cause he would break up with me when he finds out.”
“So you still love him?” He took a sip from his glass of wine.
“I don't have a choice here,”
“I gave you a choice earlier, miss?” His eyes twitched.
“Priscilla.”
“Miss Priscilla. I gave you a choice. Break up with him or get revenge?”
I looked away from his piercing brown eyes. There's no point in revenge as I might hurt myself in the process. Break up; who then would see me through my last year in fashion school?
“Miss Priscilla?” Asher called, drifting me back to reality.
“Which would you help out with?”
His eyes narrowed.
“Me breaking up with my boyfriend or getting revenge, which would you help me out with?”
“Any.”
His jaw tightened, just like in the movies.
“I’ll take revenge,”
“Are you sure you want this?”
“Yes.”
“Marry me, then,” he said with a straight face.
My eyes widened. “What?”
“How else do you intend to get him jealous?”
I swallowed, unable to utter a thing.
“We could get married tomorrow and divorce a year later. He'll surely get jealous.”
“Tomorrow? He'll think I've been cheating on him the whole time?”
“Isn't that what this revenge concept is all about? Making the other party aware that you're smarter?”
“What if…”
“Drink up, Miss Priscilla. Your eyes are getting wet again.”
I sniffed and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.
“I'm not sure we can get married tomorrow, you're still in pain,”
I took a sip from my glass of wine.
“What do you do for fun?”
How do I tell him that I watch his movies for fun? I know this is a dream that I would soon snap out of, or maybe he's too drunk to realise that he's been chatting with a lowlife.
“Priscilla?” He waved at my face and I blinked.
“I… I watch… I just need to calm my head right now, Sir,” I stood up and walked out of the bar.
“What are you doing Priscilla?” I muttered to myself but I kept on walking into the cold, towards my car. I just walked out on a man that I've been dreaming of meeting. Not just me, almost all the girls in City X have a crush on Asher Lyon.
A part of me wanted to go back inside but what would I tell him was the reason I walked out on him in the first place. Also, if I go back in there, it might just… oh good lord…
I paced. My heart was beating faster as I struggled to practice my breathing exercises, but my airway seemed to get narrower with every struggle. I glanced at my bag inside the car; my inhaler was in there but my hands had grown rigid and I could not unlock the car. I held my chest, still gasping for air as my legs began to fail me and I was losing sight of everything around me.
All of a sudden, an arm grabbed me, snatched the key from my hand and unlocked the car. With all the strength I had, I dashed into the car and grabbed my bag, but Asher snatched it from me immediately and pulled out my inhaler.
He laid me on the driver's seat and pressed the contents into my mouth. Slowly, my airways felt free, again.
I held his hand and slowly pushed it away from my mouth.
“Are you okay?” He asked amid gentle pants and roaming glances.
“Yeah. I'm fine. Thank you.”
“You know you should have asked me to fetch the inhaler for you, instead of risking yourself in this cold.” He pulled his head outside the car.
I nodded, pulling myself into an upright sitting position.
“Are you also asthmatic?”
He scoffed.
“No.”
“How then do you know how to administer the inhaler?”
“I was taught on set. I'm an actor by the way.”
I smiled.
‘I know you are,’ I thought.
“You need to go home and rest, Priscilla.”
“Thank you,”
He handed me a card. “Here's my card, in case your inhaler gets far away from you,” he smiled, and I felt a thousand butterflies flutter in my belly.
I took the card and watched him walk back casually into the bar, like he wasn't the billionaire son of the Lyons or could I be mistaken?
I glanced at the card.
“Gracious heavens,” I gasped. It's really Asher Lyons…
- Writer
