Next-Door Nemesis by Alexa Martin EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author:Alexa Martin
- Language: English
- Genre: Multicultural & Interracial Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 3.3 MB
- Price: Free
If I hear live, laugh, love one more time, I’m going to die, scream, rage.
I know my mom means well, but my phone’s almost out of storage
thanks to the abundance of uplifting memes and Bible verses she won’t stop
sending me. Maybe I’d appreciate her unrelenting positivity if I was still in
LA, enjoying my oat milk latte from the adorable café I wrote in almost
every day. But for some reason, the never-ending text stream hits a little
different when I’m fifteen feet away, sitting in my childhood room, and
notifications keep interrupting the shame spiral I’ve been living in for the
last two months.
I swipe away her latest text message and nestle deeper into the frilly
comforter of my childhood past. I make sure the volume is all the way
down—after all, who needs sound when every single word is ingrained in
my brain?—and hit play on the video that has quite literally ruined my life.
To say the camerawork is shoddy would be a massive understatement.
The video bounces and bobbles around as the image blurs in and out until a
woman standing in an empty parking lot wearing nothing but spike high
heels and a silk robe comes into focus.
A woman, of course, who happens to be me.
Jazz hands!
Honestly, it’s borderline offensive that after all the time I spent in Los
Angeles, all the scripts I wrote, all the internet content I produced hoping to
hit my break à la Issa Rae, this is what has millions of views. You flip out
and threaten to bury your lying, thieving ex one time and it goes viral?
What are the chances?
It just really sucks that instead of my brush with viral fame catapulting
me to television-writing superstardom, it’s what ended my career.
My phone dings with another text from my mom at the same moment
the video hyperzooms in on my tearstained face. This is where it really gets
good. And by good, of course, I mean downright horrifying.
I lift my finger to swipe away another one of her messages. I love my
mom and her hopeless positivity, but after moving back into my childhood
home a month ago—exactly thirty-one days after my life took a drastic turn
toward the absolute worst—with no signs of getting out, I’m in the mood
for self-pity.
“Collins Marie Carter!” My mom’s thick midwestern lilt rings out from
the other side of my much-too-thin door. “Don’t you ignore that!”
I shoot out of bed and accidentally send my phone sailing through the
room. “Holy shit, Mom!”
Just another perk of moving back home as a twenty-nine-year-old
woman.
Privacy? Never heard of her.
“First of all, watch your language,” she says, still right outside my door.
“Second of all, that’s the third text I’ve sent you this morning and you
haven’t responded to one.”
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