On the table is Anthony’s cellphone, placed in the middle for the four of us to see. The boys are quiet, waiting for someone to take the initiative and speak. I know it has to be me. Just a minute ago, I was on the phone with Angel Garcia, asking why the hell was I on Elle’s i********: post for her 57.3 million followers to see. Calling the popstar was useless, the likes of her weren’t for a mere commoner like me to phone. Luckily, the kind manager promised he'd tell her to take the photo down, only I don’t know when exactly. The damage was done.
When I checked my phone after seeing the photo, it was already blowing up with texts and calls from people I know. Greg called, Sara asked why I was with Elle and Katie too. Hell, even my sister who I thought had erased my existence from her mind
