"I can't with these headlines." Kimmie has been laughing non stop as she reads one after another tabloids' headline about Owen and I.
"Why do they call him gay? Just because he never revealed his relationship with anyone, doesn't mean he's gay." Yes my bestfriends don't know he's gay. I signed the NDA, remember? Though they know he's my sugar daddy slash boyfriend.
"Your kids are gonna be beautiful little human." Cleo nods to herself then shows her phone screen.
My eyes widen seeing all the pictures Owen has deleted few days ago are being shared in an article. They even included some from our date yesterday. Damn it. I knew those pictures will pop out somewhere eventhough he removed it from his Instagram account.
"What did Owen say?"
I shrug at Kimmie's question, "He's meeting Helen at the moment." Hence my presence here at Cleo's place. I can't stay on my own because I'm too nervous.
Will I be sued for revealing our relationship to the public? I signed an NDA, I asked Owen to walk with me at the street, so I'm the one to be blamed because I gave a reason for us to be discovered.
...though the public is still clueless about our sugar baby contract.
"When are you meeting the lawyers?"
I shrug my shoulders again, "I don't know but it will be today. They just told me to clear my schedule." I'm guessing they'll contact me once they've talked to Owen.
"No worries, Harold and I are just fine. I'm sure it's just formalities." Cleo tries to comfort me which I slowly nod.
Though deep down I know our situation are totally different. They declared their relationship to Cupcake first before letting the world know about them. While Owen and I, the tabloids get ahold of us before Cupcake.
"Celebrity chef Owen Harris is dating 22 year old Engineering student." Kimmie reads another headline.
"Great," I sigh, "Now they know I'm a student. Maybe in two hours they'll know where I live and what I had for lunch."
They laugh but a second later Kimmie whistles as Cleo's eyes looks like they’re about to pop out of the socket.
"What? What?" I run from the couch to see what they're seeing on Kimmie's phone, "What is it?!"
"Yum yum." She comments while turning the screen to me.
My jaw drops seeing pictures of Owen in underwear. Is this from his modelling days?
"I've seen the package but this is a whole new level. Look at the abs! I don't mind washing clothes with hand if I have thatttt as my washing board!"
"Normally in this situation, we would advice the client to agree for the contract termination." Mr Peterson, the representative from the Legal team concludes.
I've been in this meeting room for thirty minutes now which they spent twenty nine of them enquiring me all sorts of questions to understand what has happened that lead to the news. If it's because of me, if I was the one who broke the NDA, so they can help me before the client press charges.
"We believe you, Miss Evans. Based on your track record, you're one of our best in Cupcake. This must be just an unfortunate coincidence. The client also agreed about this."
Agreed about what? That I didn’t do this on purpose? Or about the contract termination? Which one is it? Which one is he agreeing to?
"He has signed the contract termination. As of now, you're not obligated to him anymore."
My heart drops hearing Owen Harris is no longer mine. We're supposed to have another ten weeks. I'm seriously not ready for this.
"We suggest to lay low until the news has died down. After that, Madam Helen can proceed for your next client. The legal team will advice Madam Helen when would be the appropriate time." That's the least of my concern. I just want Owen Harris, I don't want any other client.
"Good news is, Mr Harris offered to pay the amount for the remaining of the contract duration. So you'll be granted twenty thousand pounds by the end of the day." What?!
"No, I don't want it."
"You... don't want it?" He's caught off-guard with my sharp answer.
"I don't want it."
"Uhh. Okay. I'll inform Mr Harris on that."
I still have my principle. I will only take money for my own hard work, not because of a mishap like this. If I don't work for it, I don't deserve it.
"Cupcake will also compensate ten percents to the remaining amount." Ten percents?
"I assure you this is a standard procedure, Miss Evans," he adds, perhaps not wanting me to think of it as a charity.
"Appreciate if you can sign here to finalise the termination of the contract." He puts a paper in front of me, along with a pen.
Owen went to see them early in the morning but until now, when he clearly has signed the contract termination, he still hasn't contacted me. I fucking reminded him over and over to call me straightaway once he's done with the meeting. I even texted him more than ten times today, asking for an update. Is he cutting off the whole thing? So this is it?
I can't believe this is the end of our story.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even a single text. Owen Harris is officially a stranger to me now.
After the phone call from Madam Helen and Cupcake Legal Team during our date last Sunday, we were advised to go home and stay put. The next day, on that early Monday morning, he left the bed to meet Helen and Cupcake Legal Team.
I never thought that morning would be the last time I'd see him.
I never thought that morning would be the last time I'd wake up on his bed.
I certainly never thought that morning would be our last fuck. Our last conversation. Our last kiss.
Because if I've known that, I'd never let him leave.
I guess his PR team did their work because most of the articles seemed to be missing. At least those that mention about me, or any that showed my face.
Is it weird that there's this sad feeling I have for thinking he's ashamed of me that's why he erased me from being rumoured with him? But I thought he wanted to show me to the world? So what's happening? He was still chanting 'I love you' four days ago.
"What day is today?" Cleo asks when the three of us sit at the university cafe. We're done with our classes so we have the rest of the afternoon for leisure. Or lab for me.
"Day three," Kimmie answers for me, "Day three of our dear bombshell being ghosted by my washing board."
Cleo laughs eventhough we've been calling him Kimmie's Washing Board countless times now. The nickname will never die I guess, just like what we call Mr Montgomery; Har-old.
"Where are you going after this?"
"Pick up Lily," Lily is her six year old soon-to-be stepdaughter, "Then home. What about you?"
"Meeting with my Professor."
"Ohhh yeah, today's your weekly meeting with him right."
They keep on talking as I doodle on my notebook mindlessly. I don't have the mood to talk these days. Because of my period and being ghosted by Kimmie's Washing Board.