"What do wags do? What do wags do?" Harley kept repeating the question. She was laying on the couch, throwing the tennis ball up in the air again and again. She was bored out of her mind. She'd cooked for at least a month ahead, made so many bonbons, they could open a shop, cleaned the house back and forth.She'd tried to apply to assistant jobs and gotten turned down for each. There was one single office who'd called her in for a job interview, likely not recognizing her name but then they did recognize her face and she was sent off fast and awkward. It'd become clear that she wasn't going to get a job while being the wife of a Real Madrid player. Funny how everyone pointed fingers at the partners of the players for not working.
"Try to get a job then," she mumbled before the ball hit her in the face and she cursed under her breath. "Fuck sake, I need to do something," she growled and sat up, threw her legs to the floor, propping her elbows on her knees. She didn't feel like she had to go and spend her days at a beauty salon or hairdresser. She'd bought enough clothes while Roman had still been at pre-season and shopping wasn't high on her favourite things to do list anyway.
She could try and read a book. Harley'd always wanted to have more time for that but now that she had the spare minutes she felt way too restless to try and pay attention and had no idea what genre could possibly help her out. She'd read the news back and forth as she's done everyday since Roman, giving special attention to the news about the team and him. Some were so fake she wasn't certain if she should laugh or cry.
She'd even seen an article about herself on a mediocre site, claiming she was having trouble with getting along with other WAGs. It was nonsense. Harley didn't have a problem with any of the wives and partners. She wasn't close with them but they always attended the dinner parties with Roman and she mingled a lot those times. She should like more pictures on Instagram, surely, that means they were besties forever, she snorted at the thought and opened the laptop.
Harley started browsing blogs, clicking through various topics, hoping an idea would struck her. She clicked and clicked but there was nothing that really picked her attention. With a frustrated grumble she dropped back against the couch. What the hell did others do? Inhaling deeply she stood to grab a drink when her gaze fell on Roman's glasses on the table and a smile spread over her face. They'd had a good time the other day, a damn good one.
A thought started shaping on her mind and she sat back to the couch hesitantly, pulled the laptop into her lap. She wriggled her fingers, her tongue pressed against her bottomlip. It's been a long time since she's had a craving to write a single word.The last thing she'd written was Jordan's necrology for the local paper. The thought leant a bitter taste in her mouth and she took a deep breath. Don't think of that now.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her hand to stop the shaking. Her fingers touched the keyboard and for a moment she just stared at the blank screen. Harley exhaled loud and pressed down the first key, and then like magic, the words were pouring out of her, filling the whiteness with thousands of black letters shaping into words and sentences then paragraphs. She was completely lost in her own doing, the enjoyment of doing something what she hadn't done for too long.
This was not Shakespeare, not even Stephenie Meyer,just pure porn, recording their sexual encounters with Roman to the tiniest of details, starting with the first time in Ibiza. Memories were rushing back to her from that night and she let them pour onto the screen without thinking.
An hour later she blinked in disbelief at the over 10.000 words. Harley hadn't even realized how much she'd missed writing until she'd started again. She felt the type of fullfilment as not in a long time, like a small rock just rolled off her heart.
Her bottomlip slipped between her teeth, her eyes wandering to the open browser window with the blogs. What if... Maybes he could upload her story to a blog, no names, completely anonymous,their appearances and every personal detail changed. Harley didn't think she'd get attention but it'd make her feel like she was actually doing something productive.
YOU ARE READING
Tales Of A Fake WAG (Roman Bürki)
Romance"Marry me!" He blurted with complete seriousness over his face and she bursted into laughter. "I think you had one too many tequila last night," she croaked as she tried to catch her breath. She should have known something was off with him when he o...
