Chapter 29

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I wish I could say I hated the week I've been with Ariana. But the truth was, I didn't. I guess the moment I accepted her explanation, all the hate just went away and I forgot how fun it was to be with her. She never failed to make me smile or make me happy.

But we refrained from talking about the past. We only focused on the present like all the awards she's got and how much her fans have changed her life from her show to being a singer. She was beaming from ear to ear as she relayed her life to me. I saw how hard she worked to achieve the place she was now and I couldn't be prouder of her. I remember the Ariana who didn't get noticed when we walked on the street and now, she needed five bodyguards. But her personality hadn't changed at all. She was still the humble and confident girl I knew.

"How are you and your father?" she asked.

We were at the studio sitting comfortably on the sofa. It was like the dance studio where the girls rehearsed but this one was much bigger. There was a piano seated on the far side and an assortment of guitars on the other. The hardwood floor didn't hide the sound our shoes made as it echoed and bounced off the walls.

"Another thing that hasn't changed," I said at the girl beside me on the sofa. She had her feet up and looking at me curiously.

"Does your father still hate me?"

A chuckle escaped my lips before I shook my head. "My father hates you and me."

"You know, he only hates you because you fought for me."

"Yeah, I fought for you unlike—" I stopped myself from saying the next words. We had a nice conversation going and I really didn't want to ruin all of it. She moved closer to me and rested her arm on my thigh.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it," she told me with a smile. I looked down at her hand resting on my leg and can't help but feel uncomfortable. So I flashed her a quick smile before standing up. Her hand slid down to the sofa with a muffled sound. I slowly looked around the room to try and clear my head because I couldn't help but think that this was wrong—that even being in the same room as Ariana was wrong.

But I couldn't deny the fact that it felt good talking to her again.

I walked over to the wall littered with records. There were so many artists on the wall like Amy Winehouse, Jessie J, Nicki Minaj, and even James Morrison. I finally saw Ariana's album after a few seconds. It wasn't the album I listened to but rather the first one she made. I could faintly remember seeing her album when I passed by the music store back in Miami but I never gave it a second look for obvious reasons.

"Have you heard any of my songs?" she asked.

I glanced at her then back at the wall. "Yeah. I got your album on my phone."

"Really?" she asked and I could hear the surprise in her voice. I only nodded without looking back at her. Partly because I'm embarrassed and partly because I didn't know Ariana and Austin had the same record label. "What song did you like most?"

"My Everything."

"Really? I wrote that."

"I know."

"It's about you."

I turned in her direction and saw her stand up from the sofa without taking her eyes off me. "I know," I simply replied.

At least there wasn't any doubt now. I kept that song on repeat and it played over and over until I felt my eyes grow heavy. The lyrics were burned in my mind and in my heart. I guess that was her plan B if I didn't give her a chance to talk to me. It was her way of reaching me without physically being here. And it reached me loud and clear.

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