“Omigod,” she said. “Remember when we put that picture on your site, the one where you had your top off and then all those guys started instant messaging you?”
I just sat there, totally bugging, and thinking how I was going to kill her the second I could get her alone.
But then Carly goes, “That was my site, dummy. Zoë doesn’t have a site, remember?”
And then Paula looks at me, and goes, “Oh yeah, duh! Somebody pass me another beer! Ha ha!”
And then everyone laughed, including me because I felt like I had to, to make it look real.
Marc was the only one who didn’t laugh. Marc just stared.
One week down, two to go! Been hanging at Paula’s every day, read the first two pages of one of the books from the eleventh-grade summer reading list — boring! Saw Marc every night except for one where he acted all mysterious so I acted like I didn’t care.
Still working on the revamp of my new Web page, though I’m still not all that thrilled with the photos Carly took. I mean, right after I uploaded them, I waited for the usual comments to come pouring in, but mostly I just got stuff like:
Bikini pics way hotter!
Girl-on-girl action mo betta!
So I guess that means if I wanted to be a porn star I’d be set. But that’s not gonna happen — / mean, disgusting! Not to mention how the only lingerie ads I’d ever be willing to do are for Victoria’s Secret. I mean, if it’s good enough for Giselle, then it’s good enough for me, but otherwise, that kind of stuff is usually sleazy and cheesy.
Anyway, I think it’s getting painfully obvious how I definitely need to get some professional pictures taken by a real photographer, in a real studio, as opposed to a bunch of cell phone digitals taken by my drunk, burnout friend in her poorly lit bathroom.
And then, wouldn’t you know it, just when I was actually considering returning those awesome two-hundred-dollar jeans (that I already wore) so I’ll have more money to add to the professional photographer savings account I keep stashed under my mattress I get a message from a professional photographer!
Seriously! Apparently he stumbled across my page and saw my photos and thinks I have potential but the pictures are way too amateur! Duh. So he told me to check out his Web page to see some of his work, and to let him know if I’m interested.
So of course I clicked right over and checked out his pictures, which I gotta say are completely amazing! Seriously nice high fashion black-and-whites, along with some really great head shots, some of which feature models that I’m actually familiar with! And I was so majorly excited I was just about to e-mail him back, when Marc called. So instead I just bookmarked the page, figuring it’s probably better to wait a few days and not look all desperate and overly eager.
But still — kismet fate, destiny, providence, big-time amazing luck — call it what you want, it’s finally starting to happen for me!
I’m totally freaked and don’t know what to do. And the worst part is I can’t tell anyone, at least not until I know what it means, because maybe it won’t end up meaning anything. But at the moment, I just can’t seem to figure it out. And believe me, I’ve tried.
Okay, so I was just out with my dad, on our way downtown, and just as we drove past the office where I work I saw Marc opening the door and going inside. And even though I immediately turned around in my seat and did a total double take just to make sure it was him, the whole thing happened so fast I just couldn’t be positive.
But I still have to stress how it really, really, really looked like him. I mean, let me put it this way, how many guys in this town are that good looking and just happen to dress in all black and wear Doc Marten boots when it’s one hundred and two in the shade?
Only one that I know of
And it’s not like it would be such a big deal, except for the fact of how he told me he was going to be home all day, doing some work on his car. So right after the sighting, I tried to reach him on his cell, but he must’ve turned it off cuz it went straight into voice mail. Which, okay, fine, maybe he doesn’t want to have it on when he’s working on his car, I mean, that makes sense, right?
But then here’s the thing — the only people who occupy that office are two shrinks. My boss, who I know for a fact is away on vacation, and the other one who’s this psychiatrist (which, I recently found out, means he went to school even longer so he can make even more money and prescribe drugs) who doesn’t leave for vacation ’til my boss gets back.
And then I remember that comment Mark made that one day about my boss having a goatee, and how it got me all wondering how he would even know that since it’s not like they’d ever met or had ever seen each other.
And even though I shrugged it off at the time, now I’m starting to wonder just how many secrets he’s actually keeping from me.
Because to be honest, it seems like they’re starting to multiply.
That photographer dude just sent me another message, which seems a little weird and desperate. But then Carly goes, “Well maybe he just wants to be the one who discovers you, because if you become famous, then it’s like big-time kudos for him, right?”
And when you think about it, she really does have a point Anyway, I didn’t message him back yet, ’cause I’m meeting Carly soon and I need to concentrate on that right now. I mean, I finally broke down and told her all about how I saw Marc at the shrink’s office and how weird things have been with us lately.
And then she was all, “What’s that about?”
And I’m like, “Who knows?”
Then she says, “Well, don’t you have a key?”
And I go, “Yeah, but it’s only to the front door and his office. Not the other guy’s place.”
And she goes, “Well, it’s a start.”
Marc just called to make plans for our two-months-since-we-first-kissed anniversary and I don’t even know what to say. I mean, just two days ago I would’ve thought that was extremely romantic, but now it’s kind of creeping me out. I guess it’s because of what I found out. Or more like what I kind of found out. Because sometimes having only a partial answer is worse than not knowing at all.
Finally called Marc back (I know, I know, bad girlfriend). Anyway, I told him dinner at Giorgio’s tomorrow night sounds good, but that I wouldn’t be able to see him ’til then.
But still, the more I think about it, the more I think it’s probably nothing, since he’s never done anything major to weird me out before (and you’d think I’d know by now if he had psycho tendencies or something). And I’ve definitely never seen him do anything remotely violent or destructive, and the only time he’s ever playing with fire is when we’re smoking, which doesn’t really count as playing with fire, right? (Just playing with your health — ha ha!) Anyway, I’m actually starting to wonder if maybe I’m the one who’s crazy!
I mean, I love him — I really, truly, totally do! And I can hardly believe the way I’m totally overreacting to something that in all likelihood is probably nothing! And I really have to stop acting like this because if I don’t then I’m
totally going to sabotage the only relationship I’ve ever had that’s actually made me feel extremely happy.
Not to mention how I need to learn to give him some space and respect his privacy since it’s really not necessary for two people to know absolutely everything about each other. In fact, it’s better not to. At least that’s what they say in Cosmo.
But still, I just can’t stop wondering why Marc wouldn’t tell me that he’s seeing a shrink. Unless it’s because I always make fun of my boss and the psychos who see him, in which case, I feel even worse.
Today I went shopping, thinking I’d buy something new and exciting to wear to my anniversary dinner tonight with Marc. But since everything that’s out now is pretty much for fall, and with the daytime temperatures still in the triple digits — and the nighttime only slightly cooler than that — I decided to just save my money and wear something I already have. Besides, it’s not like I’m all that excited about it anyway, not to mention how I need to start saving as much money as possible to invest in my photos, my future, and my one-way ticket out of this hell town.
And then just as I was about to leave, I remembered how Echo’s b-day is totally coming up. And since I was already out shopping, I figured I might as well get a head start and buy something early, as opposed to picking up something in a last-minute panic like I usually do.
But since she’s not all that into clothes yet, and since she barely wears any makeup or perfume, and since she doesn’t seem to focus much on her hair, that pretty much ruled out all of my areas of expertise.
So I headed over to the bookstore, where she likes to spend all her free time, but even though it’s not like it was the first time I’d ever gone in there (I mean, I’m not retarded, I just don’t like to read), still, walking around and trying to choose a book for her was basically impossible. I mean, there’s like so many titles, by so many writers, and that’s just in the teen section! And knowing Echo, she’s probably read every last one of them anyway. And not wanting to give her a repeat, I decided to bail.
Then just as I was on my way out the door, I spotted this display with like, all these book accessories and stuff, which I know probably sounds stupid since it’s not like people actually dress up their books like you do a doll, I just mean stuff like fancy jeweled and beaded bookmarks and little metal clip-on reading lights and stuff like that. And then just as I was thinking about getting her a bookmark/reading light combo gift set, I noticed this whole other shelf filled with diaries just like the one I’m writing in now!
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