Chapter 1: So why now?

*****Headline News*****

Laila Condes

Just by hearing her name one couldn't help but think of wanting to be in one of her works.

Laila is a well-known writer. She had published three novels but her leading focus is writing stories made for films. She's been writing scripts and plays that had made millions of people addicted to her stories wanting it to actually happen to them.

There's something alluring to her work that no producer, director or actor would refuse.

What's her secret? Well, we got an exclusive interview with the well-known writer herself.

A down-to-earth lady that smiles with her eyes. Just as you can't resist her work, she's even charming and alluring when you meet her.

L A I L A

"Can you please turn it off?" I quietly said to Clarisse before continuing to type my manuscript on my desktop.

There was a loud bang of something being dropped on the floor before I heard my best friend's loud cursing to which I only laugh.

"Seriously! I forgot I put hand cream on," she continued fuming. "Anyway, when they said they'll announce it I didn't expect it to be this fast. There's no interview yet and you can cancel anytime."

I stopped typing and took a sip at my strong iced coffee, "The agency wants me to actually do interviews saying it's about time I receive the spotlight for my work."

Clarisse made a -tsk sound as if saying I was dumb, "Obviously. Do you have any idea how much money there are making whenever your work hits the premiere?"

I was about to say something when a Taylor Swift song suddenly played from her phone.

She quickly ran to answer her phone. Her eyes widen in shock as she answered whoever was calling. The whole time she looks at me as if I was about to kill her. She keeps biting at her left thumb, a sign I know whenever she's nervous.

"Laila," she said in a sweet soft voice she always uses when asking for a favour.

"What now?" I asked as I raised an eyebrow at her. My fingers kept on tapping at my table waiting for her to ask.

Her eyes darted around not sure how to start telling me, "I know I said I'll never set you up again with any guy but please help me on this one."

"My mom set me up with this guy but can you go instead of me," she continued.

I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning back in my chair, "Why would I do that?"

"Because I'm your best friend and you love me," she said in a squeaky tiny voice that always irritates me.

I can just say no to her but deep down I know that she had always helped me.

"Fine," I give up.

Her eyes lighten up in delight, "Great! You need to get ready now. Twelve noon at the Luna Cafe. I'll help you change."

She wasted no time as she literally pushed me off my seat and drag me into my bedroom. It's a good thing I already took a shower. She picked up a cream long sleeve and a floral skirt for me to wear. I kept my make-up minimal. It's not like I am going to impress the guy but I am going because I'm a substitute.

It was quarter to twelve when we finished. Clarisse drove me to the cafe.

"Just be yourself," she said as I was about to get off.

I narrowed my eyes at her, "Why does it feel like you are advising me to actually do well on this."

She just shrug and took off once I got out of her car.

I went inside the cafe and looked around at the guy she was supposed to see. I look down at the picture in my phone and around to see if any match. I luckily spotted him just by the table beside the window.

He doesn't look bad. Blonde hair, blue eyes the same description any girl would like. His eyes took a sceptic look at me when I sat down at the chair across from him.

"May I help you?" he asked. His voice was deep compared to his boyish look. He's wearing a casual white polo. His hair was a bit messy as if he's been running his hands through it while waiting.

I put on a small smile, "You're here to meet Clarisse right?"

With that, he started to relax as he lean back in his chair. Little did I know that that was the start of half-hour torture for me.

To say he was a jerk was an understatement. The guy was full of himself that he kept on bragging about his wealth and status. It was a good thing that he doesn't have a clue about who I am.

The whole time I fake a smile just to not seem rude.

I was taking a bite off my pasta when he suddenly asked about my work.

"I'm actually a writer," I started telling but before I can even continue he stop me putting his palm in front of my face.

I clenched my fist under the table and bit down the inside of my lower lip just to stop myself from cursing at him.

There was a grimace on his face, "A writer? Well, that is something."

I put my fork down making a loud sound as it hit the table. My eyes narrowed as a sighed deeply.

"What's wrong with being a writer?"

He shrugged his shoulder off as if it was nothing, "Hate to say this but you are far off from girls I date."

"I mean you do look beautiful but you're just plain. You don't even have a status in society. How can I introduce you to people, that you're just a writer."

I pushed back my chair as I cross my legs. My right hand tapped at the table.

"Did you honestly think I'm here because I want to impress you?" I huffed a little too loud.

By now every attention is on.

"Hate to break it to you sweetheart but, you're just nothing to me. You're clearly not a model figure and it seems like no man will actually want to bed you," he casually stated as if there was nothing wrong with what he said.

I lost my temper, I stood up about to punch some sense into him when a familiar deep voice interrupts us.

"I don't think that's the right way to treat a lady," I turn around to see a face I had wished to never see again.

My mind went blank.

What the hell is he doing here?

"Well, she was this desperate to see me when I'm supposed to meet her friend."

"Still that doesn't mean you can treat her this way."

I'm still stunned seeing him that I wasn't even listening to what they were saying. The next thing I knew was that I was being dragged away from the table.

"I can sure bet she's not that good in bed anyway," that jerk called after.

Without a thought, I picked up the glass of cold coffee from the other table and dump its content at the jerk.

I was about to say something when for the hundredth time today someone interrupts me.

A fist landed on the jerk's face, "Don't you dare talk about her that way."

I was once again being dragged away and out of the cafe.

"Stop!" I said forcefully once we were outside.

"That a**hole, I should kill him," he muttered under his breath.

"And why would you do that?" I asked which made him stop moving. I yanked my hand away from him. "What the hell are you even doing?"

"You have no idea how much I was holding up back there. The moment I heard your voice I knew it was you and I just can't help but overhear what you were saying. He doesn't have any right to say those things to you," he angrily said. He ran a hand over his hair a gesture he always does when his fired up.

I glared at him, "Cut the crap Jer."

"I can't just let him treat you that way. You don't deserve that."

"The same way you treat me?" that made him freeze from his spot.

I knew well he remembers. I started walking away not even glancing back at him as I hail a cab.

I'm starting to regret coming back to this city. I've been going in the opposite direction from him for five years. Avoiding places I know he'll show up.

So why now?

Why did he suddenly have to appear again?