Note: I got this beautiful edit on Twitter! I realized after some of the character interviews in book one that I stopped giving credit on edits. So, this one is by @FamouxForever on Twitter!
If you didn't read my little note in the middle of the week, I AM GETTING PUBLISHED! The book comes out on April 26th in both bookstores and ebook formats. It's called Imagines, and the hashtag #ImaginesBook trended worldwide on Twitter above "Trump" for a hot second. Guess who cried about it for an hour?
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PREVIOUSLY ON THE CLASSIX: Chapter and Emeray made out, but it was all for a movie. They, with Cartney, just left Notness to come to the film's set in Betnedoor. This also happens to be the country where they live, so essentially, they're home now. The 1975 also just dropped their album and I'm having trouble focusing on this recap while listening to A Change In Heart over and over again.
emeray
He swings our heavily-gloved hands in the space between us to the beat of the song in our headphones. It's something soft and chilling by Kaytee, and just haunting enough to match how much she's been to Cartney. Needless to say, the song has been a staple in these brutal Colburn winter months.
Rain, snow, or shine, we must always go walking.
A mix of rain and snow embellishes my coat, a new black one which once belonged to Chapter. There's no risk to wearing it––any passerby who's brave enough to face the weather out here will assume it is one of Cartney's without a second thought. The coat is paired with a pair of glistering faux-leather pants I found in the back of my closet.
According to tabloids, which have gotten infinitely more testy with my fashion choices as of late, I wear these pants far too much, what with the hundreds of options a Famoux member's closet must boast. But they don't seem to consider my side, and how the very idea of wearing anything other than black and anything other than leather is something I'm not too keen on just yet.
I never got that punk photo shoot with Foster––the one he always wanted. So I've decided to make everyday, and every single walk outside the Metropolix with Cartney a punk photo shoot in and of itself.
These walks have absolutely no trouble becoming photo shoots. Just before we pass by a barber shop, a man in a black parka slips out the door, walking backward so he can face us as he grabs something out of his backpack. The item turns out to be a massive, wide-lensed camera.
"Casual," I mutter.
When we turn the corner at the end of the street, we're greeted by a hoard of more men, looking identical to the first in their cameras and ferocity alike. They start snapping pictures like an army surging toward the enemy.
"My," Cartney says, sardonic. "It's good to be home."
Behind me, I hear a loud groan from our bodyguards as they step in front of us to block off the paparazzi. In the half of a day I've been given to get to know Angad, Gerald's replacement, the only thing I've gathered thus far is that being on "babysitting duty," as the Famoux guards call it, was the last thing he wanted to do.
