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Written in the Stars Series Collection Page 5


  Although, if I did, all of my wildest dreams would probably come true. And paying my rent and bills would become a little easier. I’d have the life that many people only dreamed of. But was it my dream? If I was honest, yes. Who doesn’t dream about fame and fortune?

  The downside, though, is I would be selling my soul to the devil for a fantasy. The upside is, I would be a bit richer and would be able to make a name for myself as a journalist. No, wait. If I were famous, I would be the story. I couldn’t be a journalist. If I were a journalist, I would be writing about myself. Just as I was now.

  Suddenly, my life flashed before me. If I revealed that I was the girl in the picture, I wouldn’t be Chloe Vanderbilt, a twenty-four-year-old struggling freelance writer from Sydney. I would be the mysterious girl from the party whom Jack Dean took back to his room. I would become public enemy number one to all media. I would be putting a permanent bullseye on my head.

  But if I didn’t out myself, if I didn’t reveal that I was the woman in the photograph, then my life would remain as it was now. But I also wouldn’t know what to write. What I would write would be a complete fabrication. A lie.

  I had two choices. I write a fake story just to appease my boss and save my dignity. Or I write the story my soul was dying to write. The story that would change my life forever. Jack had urged me to write this story. He wanted the truth revealed.

  I clicked back to the photo of Jack and me. It was then that something crazy took over my body. It was like I was being possessed. I clicked back to the blank document, and my fingers flew over the keys. It was as if my soul decided. My soul and heart had won over my brain. I smiled as the story flowed. This was possibly the craziest, bravest decision I had ever made.

  I didn’t stop writing. Not even when Susan came by my desk to say it was time to go home.

  “Just a minute!” I told her. “I’m almost done.”

  “Okay,” she said with a smile and a pat on my shoulder. A little while later, Rebecca left a cup of tea on my desk, and I muttered a thank you without looking up.

  I just typed. I didn’t take in what I was writing because I knew if I paused to look at it, I would probably stop myself and tell myself I was crazy.

  I was definitely crazy. But I had never felt this way before.

  Jack Dean made me crazy. Jack Dean made me do things I never thought I would do. Jack Dean had changed me for the better.

  By the time I finished the story, it was far too long for a typical article or exposé. It was a novella length. But I didn’t care. This was my story, and I wasn’t changing it. I took a sip of my cooling Earl Grey tea and pressed send.

  I then stood up from my chair, raised my hands in the air and screamed at the top of my lungs. I gazed around, but the office was dark save for my desk lamp. Everyone else in the office had gone home. I did it. I wrote about Jack and my story. I’d just revealed our secret to the world.

  I walked into my apartment a little while later, cold bottle of sauvignon blanc in my hand, fresh from the bottle shop on the way home. I put my phone on the speaker dock, pressed play, and danced to the cupboard of glasses. I took out a wine glass and used it as a makeshift microphone, mouthing the words to Taylor Swift’s latest album. I poured myself a generous amount of wine and set the bottle down before taking a big gulp. I was going to get drunk, so I would stay on this high and prevent myself from writing an urgent message to Susan not to read the email I’d just sent her. But it was too late. It was done. My story was out in the world. It wouldn’t be long before the world knew the truth— that I was the woman in the photograph.

  14

  I woke the next morning to a million and one messages and emails. I’d had my phone on airplane mode, and when I turned it off, my phone did not stop dinging and vibrating for a solid five minutes. I let it do its thing while I brewed my coffee. As the kettle boiled, I wore out my floorboards in my kitchen by pacing. I was so damn nervous. What will Susan think? Had she sent it to be published? Had the story been leaked yet? Have other media outlets discovered it and sent the internet into a flurry? Was I a trending topic yet?

  I was too nervous to look at my phone. But curious at the same time. At last, the kettle stopped boiling, and I made my coffee before heading out to the balcony to do one of my favourite things: people watch. I lived in Paddington in a townhouse that I shared with three other people. Two of my flatmates were doctors so were never there, and the other was a university student who worked nights at a nightclub in the city. She was probably still asleep, so I had the house to myself for now. I relished this time. This was my me time and was my favourite time of the day.

  I dragged the tall bar stool to the edge of the brick balcony wall and sat down alongside it. I leaned one elbow on the wide ledge and sipped my coffee as I watched the cars drive by up the narrow one-way street and other residents cycling on their vintage bicycles. I loved living here, with its charming townhouses all in a row and tree-lined streets and trendy hipster coffee shops. I’d set my phone on the ledge next to me, and it buzzed with another email. I sighed.

  “I guess it’s time I face the music,” I said aloud. I picked up my phone and unlocked it. I clicked into my email app and studied the subject lines of the emails waiting there. Two of them were from Susan. One of them was from a publishing house. What the hell? I opened the one from the publishing house and read, curious as to why they were contacting me. Maybe it was a mistake.

  Dear Chloe,

  * * *

  My name is Lola James, and I am the head of acquisitions here at Little White Dog publications, and I am writing to you to say I received an email from your boss Susan at Sydney Showbiz News with quite an exciting proposition for me. Susan and I are friends from university, and she often sends me samples of up and coming writers’ work that she thinks have promise. And let me tell you, Chloe, you have promise.

  I loved your story! It was raw, real, and funny.

  Susan told me about your assignment at the premiere after party, and she said she is really proud of the lengths you went to get a story. Whether your novel is autobiographical or fiction, no matter the length, I loved it nonetheless and would love to offer you a publishing contract for the book.

  I’d also like to arrange a meeting to speak with you in person.

  I look forward to your response,

  * * *

  Kind regards,

  Lola.

  * * *

  P.S. You’d better check your other emails because I’m pretty sure there’s one where Susan has offered you a promotion!

  I had to read the email about three times before some of it could sink in. I could not believe it! One of the biggest publishing houses in the country wanted to publish my story! Holy crap! I quickly read the other emails. Susan was probably freaking out. I clicked on her first email. It was a reply to mine, and I read it slowly in nervous anticipation.

  Chloe,

  * * *

  When I asked you to get a story, I expected you to record a couple of questions and answers with Jack. You know, an interview. I did not expect you to write an entire book about your night with Jack Dean!

  I don’t know if I am surprised, proud or pissed off at you for this. I don’t know if I should promote you or fire you.

  But I read your story last night. I stayed up all night until I was finished, and then I sent it on to an old university friend of mine who is the head acquisitions’ editor at a big publishing house. I am awaiting her reply, but I think she’ll love it too.

  Well done, Chloe.

  You’ve gone above and beyond on this assignment. Read the rest of your emails and check Twitter, and I’ll see you at work soon.

  * * *

  Regards,

  Susan.

  Well, Susan’s response was as expected. She wanted to throttle me and kiss me at the same time for spending the night with Jack. I still didn’t know what to think. My thoughts were chaos. I took another sip of my cooling coffee and opened the next email.
It was from Susan as well.

  Chloe,

  * * *

  Have you seen this? You’re trending on Twitter!

  Attached was a screenshot of the Twitter trending topics.

  Holy shit! I really was a trending topic! And not once, but four times!

  #JackDeansMysteryGirl

  #whoisthatgirl

  #Jacksmysterygirluncovered

  #JackDeanfindslovedownunder

  I was slightly amused I was a trending topic. The hashtags were kind of hilarious.

  I went to take another sip of my coffee and spat it back in the cup. Yuck! It was cold. I hated cold coffee. I stood and made my way back inside as my phone began to ring. I looked down at the number but didn’t recognise it. I didn’t answer unknown calls as a rule. It was usually a telemarketer. But this could be one of the various media sources or the publishing house calling, so I answered it.

  “Hello, this is Chloe.”

  “Chloe.” I froze. I knew that voice.

  “Jack,” I said quietly, almost whispering. I knew why he was calling me now. He had seen the trending topics on Twitter. The photo was probably splashed everywhere by now, as well.

  “Jack, I can explain.”

  “No. Chloe. You don’t have to explain anything. That’s not why I’m calling. Where do you live? I’m still in town and want to see you. I need to see you. I’m just getting coffee now and will bring you one.”

  “Oh.” I smiled and gave him my address. He said he’d be here in about ten minutes. I tipped out my cold coffee and looked down at myself. Shit. Jack was going to be here in ten minutes, and I was still in my puppy dog PJ’s!

  15

  I jumped in the shower and quickly washed and shaved. I dried off, ran into my room, and stood before my closet. I had no idea what to wear! I had to decide on something quickly because Jack was about to arrive. I finally settled on a pair of dark blue jeans and a light blue blouse. With my dark blonde hair, I loved this shade. Paired with my favourite nude lipstick, I felt sexy. I was brushing my teeth as the doorbell rang.

  I ran to the little Juliet balcony on the upper level where my bedroom was. It overlooked the front door so I had a perfect view of anyone standing there. It was good for when solicitors came knocking. Now I had the ideal view of Jack standing at my door. He looked perfect in a dark blue t-shirt and sunglasses. He looked so sexy.

  I ran to spit out my toothpaste and rinse. It was pointless brushing my teeth since I was about to drink more coffee, but necessary if I was about to kiss Jack. I probably had morning breath worse than a hellhound.

  He rang the doorbell again as I bounded down the three flights of stairs to the front door. I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm my racing heart. But it was pointless.

  When I opened the door, Jack’s face lit up when he saw me. He stepped into the foyer, and I had forgotten how tall he was. He stood almost two heads taller than I did. I looked up as he slid his sunglasses to the top of his head and met my gaze.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” I replied. Then he leaned down and kissed me, and I forgot how to breathe. I even forgot how to speak. When we parted, all I could do was gesture toward the kitchen. Jack smiled and thankfully understood.

  “Sure. Let’s go.”

  I led him up one floor to the kitchen, and I don’t know how I missed her, but when we walked in, we found my flatmate Melissa standing in the middle of the kitchen in her boy shorts and sleep singlet with her hair in a messy bun on top of her head—her usual look post-night shift. She stood in the centre eating a bowl of cereal, and her eyes widened in horror when she spotted our guest.

  “Hi, Mel. Sorry. We, uh… have a guest. This is—”

  Mel spat her mouthful of cereal back in the bowl and finished my sentence.

  “Jack Dean! Holy shit! You’re her! You’re the woman in the photograph! You’re all over the freaking internet, Chloe! You’ve gone viral.”

  I glanced back at Jack, and he was smirking and sipping his coffee, watching the exchange like a spectator at a tennis match.

  I sighed. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m her. I’m the woman in the photo.”

  “Oh, my God!” she shrieked. Mel was the typical fun loving twenty-something. She loved gossip like the next person and was a self-confessed social media addict. She was always envious of my job and begged me for the latest celeb gossip constantly. So the fact that I was now the top trending story right now was probably about to make her brain explode. She then realised she was standing braless in front of the hottest Hollywood star of the moment. She quickly covered her chest and ran to her room up the stairs.

  “It was nice to meet you, Jack!” she shouted from the top before disappearing into her room.

  I turned to Jack. “Sorry about her. She loves celeb gossip, and this is probably freaking her out.”

  “She was fun.” He chuckled. “By the way, here’s your coffee.” He picked up one of the takeaway cups from the biodegradable tray he was holding and handed it to me. It was still hot, and I happily take a sip.

  “Mm. Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”

  “Yes. I did. You’re probably freaking out yourself about all this. I wanted to say I’m sorry. Things are about to get crazy.”

  I pause in my drinking and almost choke on my coffee. “You’re sorry? It’s not your fault. I wrote the story and sent it out into the world. If anything, it’s my fault.”

  “This wouldn’t be blowing up like it is if I was just anyone.”

  I walk to the kitchen counter and turn my back on him. I place my coffee cup on the counter and lean against it.

  “You probably hate me. I shouldn’t have sent it.” He placed a hand on my shoulder, then grabbed my waist and spun me around to face him.

  “I do not hate you. Hey, I gave you permission, didn’t I?”

  “But I practically just sold our story to the press. You’re okay with this unwanted media storm?”

  “It is not unwanted. My manager called me this morning and said buzz for the movie is out of this world. I have a million and one interviews to do and all this press. He thinks this story is good for me and for the movie.”

  I leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around me and kissed my head.

  “I still can’t believe I did it.” I laughed. “I’m crazy.”

  “Hey, I’m crazy for falling for a writer. I should have known I’d become your muse.”

  I looked up at him and took in his smouldering dark brown gaze. Then I locked my eyes on his luscious lips and pulled him down to meet mine. I kissed him like I was starving for air and that he was my oxygen.

  When we finally broke apart, I couldn’t think straight. I knew I had to be somewhere, but I just couldn’t remember where.

  “Did you just say you’re falling for me?” I said, breathlessly.

  He smiled. “Yeah. Is that okay?”

  I grabbed his face and pulled his mouth to mine again. “That’s more than okay.” My phone buzzed on the counter, and I broke the kiss and looked at it. When I saw Susan’s name flash across the screen, I remembered where I had to be.

  “Shit! I’m late for work!”

  Jack chuckled. “Just tell your boss it’s my fault. She’ll understand.”

  “I hope so.” I ran upstairs to my room to finish getting ready.

  “Hey, I’ll drop you,” he shouted from the kitchen as I rifled through my wardrobe for a jacket and my heels. “I need to head into the city anyway. I have a few interviews and meetings.”

  “Cool. Thank you.” I grabbed my nude heels and retro yellow purse and ran down the stairs. Jack stood at the bottom looking incredibly sexy in his t-shirt and jeans and sunglasses on his head. I couldn’t help myself. I stopped and gave him another kiss. He grinned and gave me a glimpse of that gorgeous dimple. I ran my finger over it, and he sucked in a breath.

  “Let’s go,” I said. Jack smiled and picked up his car keys.

  16

  Jack stopped outside m
y office building and let the engine idle while he turned to me.

  “Have a good day at work,” he said.

  “Have a good interview. Interviews.” He leaned across and gently caressed my lips with his.

  “Wanna have dinner tonight?” I asked.

  “Uh… I’m not sure I can. I’ll text or call you.”

  “Okay. Thanks for the lift. See you later.” I gave him a quick peck and hopped out of the car. I stood on the footpath and watched as he drove away, disappearing into the crazy Sydney traffic.

  When I walked into the office, my head was still in the clouds. So I completely missed the frenzy that was going on in Susan’s office. I made it to my desk and glanced around wondering why the office was so empty.

  And then I noticed why. Everyone was crowded in Susan’s spacious office watching the TV.

  “What the…” I made my way over to the office to see what all the fuss was about. “Hey, guys. What’s going on?”

  “Ahh, here she is. The woman of the hour,” said Susan from somewhere amongst the sea of journalists. I hesitated in the doorway. Was it too late to start backing out of the office?

  “What? What’s going on?” Then everyone turned to look at me, and I suddenly felt like a deer in headlights.

  “Your story. Everyone’s talking about it, my dear,” said Susan. She stood behind her desk, half turned toward the TV on the left-hand sidewall beside the window. On the screen was the photo and below it was the headline, “Who is Jack Dean’s Aussie girlfriend?”