Free Always Rayne (The ALWAYS SOMETIMES NEVER Rock Star Romance Series) by Sierra Avalon

Either she’ll laugh and say she has no idea what a Pulitzer is and then try to change the subject. Or she’ll stick her breasts in his face in an effort to change the subject. And I know they never see it but I do. The look of disappointment on his face. They’ve dropped the ball and don’t even know it. Then his eyes just glaze over like he’s so fricken bored he wants to kill himself. And then he gets drunk and has some fun and tries to forget that he’s brilliant because he can’t find another person on the planet who can keep up with him and his giant brain.”
    I gulp. “Donna Tartt.”
    “What are you babbling about?” She looks confused.
    “She won this year’s Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. For The Goldfinch .”
    “And that’s why you’re here.”
    “Because I write about books for an online arts and entertainment magazine and I read a lot?”
    “Because you don’t bore the shit out of him. Not only do you catch every toss but you toss the ball right back. No girl has ever done that before.”
    “Okay. I can talk about books. And a lot of other things.”
    She nods. “Because you stimulate his little head and his big head. You’re exactly what he’s been looking for practically his whole life.”
    “No.” I shake my head in disbelief.
    She raises an eyebrow. “Yes.”
    “I get the whole book thing. I read a lot. He likes books. We do have a lot to talk about. But I think you’re wrong about the—um—other thing.”
      She laughs. “You can say it. The little head. He doesn’t just want to talk to you, Harper. He wants to fuck you too.”
    I swallow. Hard. “That’s not possible. I mean. Look at me.”
    She looks me up and down. “I’m not sure why you look the way you do. Honestly, you look like a hurricane blew through Goodwill and a bunch of random clothes just landed on you.”
    I’m used to people insulting my wardrobe choices but that’s by far the most creative insult I’ve ever heard.
    “I actually borrowed these clothes from my roommate.”
    “Brooke may have purchased the clothes you’re wearing but I don’t think she bought all of those things at the same time, and I definitely don’t think she wore them together.”
    She’s right. I don’t have fashion sense. I just couldn’t remember which pieces went together.
    She’s eyeing me again. But at least not with contempt. This time it’s more like sympathy. “You’re like one of those beautiful girls that they always have in teen movies who they try to make into an ugly duckling by throwing on a pair of thick glasses but it never quite works. You can still tell she’s gorgeous even with the glasses.”
    “I don’t wear glasses.”
    She smiles. “You know what I mean. You try to hide behind these ridiculous clothes like you’re trying to make yourself less attractive.”
    I’m beginning to freak out just a little bit. No one has ever used the word beautiful to describe me before. Someone who looks like her can’t really believe someone who looks like me is beautiful. And I never thought I was trying to hide anything.
    “You kind of remind me of Katie Lawrence.”
    “You know Katie Lawrence?”
    She looks at me like I’m stupid. “I know everyone in Hollywood. They all want to be with Rayne like it’s some kind of status symbol to sleep with him.”
    “He’s slept with Katie Lawrence?” It doesn’t seem possible. She’s America’s sweetheart.
    “Oh, hell no. Katie would never sleep with Rayne. She doesn’t date actors. And she’s getting married anyway. To a cop. As if I could love her anymore. She basically told everyone in Hollywood to go fuck themselves. The point I was trying to make is that she’s a great-looking girl but she kind of hides behind this girl-next-door kind of image. Like you hide behind this hippie librarian image. Anyway you’re way better looking than Katie Lawrence.”
    Everyone adores Katie Lawrence. She’s as big a star as Nic Rayne. Raven can’t possibly think