Some say getting out of The Friend Zone is hard. Well, try getting out of The Sister Zone.
Vanessa Hayes-Wong has been best friends with Oliver Morrison for five years, one month, and fourteen days. Just as she starts to realize her feelings for him...
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The news of my date with Ollie last Friday spreads like wildfire through the studio. Even after a week has passed, almost everyone still whispers about it, expressing their sympathy for Celia and their hatred for me.
It doesn't help that Celia keeps dropping by the studio every day to check on the progress for her EP—which is highly unusual for her—all the while acting a little too friendly toward Ollie and me. Yesterday, she even brought boxes of Ollie's favorite chocolate brownie cakes for the whole studio. It's as if she's trying to prove to everyone how much of a saint she is.
I try to turn a deaf ear to my colleague's barbed comments. But after five straight days of hearing the same accusations, I'd be lying if I say they don't affect me the least bit. Knowing I shouldn't listen to them, I try to distract myself by focusing on my work.
Ollie and I only have one more week to finalize Celia's EP. Despite my growing suspicion toward Celia, I'm determined to prove to my haters that I'm not some untalented slut who simply gets to where I am through nepotism.
"Do you think about me? Do you think about . . ."I sing, pausing for a moment while my hands run across the piano in search of the G chord, "us? Do you think about all . . ."I try to remember the Am7 chord Ollie taught me a few weeks ago, but my mind hits a dead end.
I can strum all the chords of this song on the guitar like second nature. Unfortunately, Memories is a classic piano ballad—which means it doesn't sound as good with a guitar.
After striking a few false chords on the keyboard, I thump my forehead against the score on the music rack of the piano.
It's times like these I regret pretending to be sick every time my mom was about to drag me to piano lessons when I was a kid.
"So that's why that untalented slut got that project. She's been sleeping with Oliver all along." Jules' annoying voice reverberates in my mind, still haunting me even after days have passed.
Although I'm aware that what Jules said to her fellow evil princesses is absurd, a sliver of doubt seeps into my mind, slowly draining my confidence. I can't even remember a simple chord. What if Jules is right? What if I am an untalented slut? What if Celia only chose me because she wanted the publicity—
A knock on the door stops me from plummeting into my inner hell.
Clearing my throat, I put on my poker face. "Come in."
The door is pushed open, and Ollie greets me with a smile. "Hey. Ready to go?"
A glance at my watch tells me it's already 12.10 p.m., ten minutes past our regularly scheduled lunch date. "Shoot. I'm so sorry. Just give me a moment."
As I stride toward the large table across the room to pick up my things, Ollie saunters to the piano. "Hmm? You're still working on this one? I thought we agreed on the arrangement."
