I’m pulled from sleep by something brushing up against my thigh. My eyelids flutter open, light filtering into my vision.
“Good afternoon,” Eric whispers into my ear, it’s then that I realize it’s his palm making soft strokes against my upper thigh. His touch callouses scratch against my bare thigh, I silently give
thanks to Emily for giving me that extra razor.
I grunt and rub my eyes. I feel so disoriented from having woken up at the crack of dawn at Emily’s only to come home and go back to bed and now waking up to the high noon sun lighting up our bedroom. It feels like early this morning didn’t happen today, that maybe it was a even dream.
Unfortunately, when I focus enough I can still hear the faint sounds of chatter and anticipation of fans and the media waiting outside.
“Renee,
