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“I don’t think you could get under anyone’s foot,” I mutter. “But I get it. Fine. Just don’t expect me to order you any room service. You’re on your own.”
“Already ate,” he says as he rises from the chair and strides over to the curtains, throwing them open. Overcast light bursts into the room, making me wince and groan as I shield my face. “But you haven’t,” he continues. “What do you want me to get you?”
“Green water, please,” I mutter as my eyes struggle to adjust to the change in lighting. Margot’s voice grows louder and louder by the second in the other room. Whoever she’s yelling at, they’re really getting it now. I almost feel sorry for them.
“Green water and…?” Xavian turns to face me, and his brows knit together. I stare at him. He stares back. “Come on, Kal. Give me something more to work with, here. Green water and what else? I don’t want to grab you something you hate.”
Running my fingers through my hair—my actual, natural, mousy brown hair—I say, “And you seem to forget that I can’t eat carbs or sugar. That gives you plenty to work with. Just the green water, Xavian. Please. I have a headache.”
Xavian raises a brow and crosses his arms. “You have a headache because you don’t eat. You say you don’t eat carbs and sugar, but do you eat any protein? I never see you with anything other than those god-awful plasma packets.”
“Those god-awful plasma packets are delicious,” I throw back at him. “And they keep me going.”
He rolls his eyes. “They’re going to keep you going until you fall into a ditch, sure. Alright. I’m going to go find you something to eat, and when I get back, you’re not going to complain about it.”
I throw up my hands and groan. “Who are you to tell me what I should and shouldn’t eat?”
“I’m not telling you what you shouldn’t eat. I’m telling youthatyou should eat, period. Your body needs fuel. You’ve had a hard week,” he says, striding toward the other room.
“I’ve had a hard month!” I yell.
He doesn’t respond. And then I hear the snick of the door close behind him.
Margot emerges in the doorway of my bedroom, wearing a scowl. “Oh, good. You’re up. We have things to discuss.”
So much for my peaceful morning lie-in, I guess.
* * *
After an hour of playing the role of Margot’s punching bag, Xavian finally returns with two bags filled with what I can only assume is food. After fighting with my “best friend” for three solid minutes, she relents and allows him to set down an impressive spread of food on the table by the window.
I perch in the chair beside the window, wearing nothing but my fuzzy slippers, pajamas shorts, and camisole top (with a bra this time), and pick at the medley of fruits and vegetables laid out before me. Even Margot can’t argue with his food choices, and arguing is her favorite pastime.
“Not bad,” she says, touching Xavian’s arm. Ever since we escaped Nocturne, she’s been … I don’t want to sayfriendly, because she most definitely is not, but she hasn’t been giving him as much grief lately.
Xavian steps over to the food and takes the lid off a dish. Oozoo berries in a riot of different colors greet me, and my eyes practically pop out of my head. Xavian chuckles, noting my elation at the fruit.
“Thought you could use the hit of dopamine,” he says with a wink.
“T-Thank you?”
The corners of his mouth tug upward, and he sits on the edge of the bed. “So, what’s on our agenda tonight? Another show?”
Margot shakes her head and brings up her terminal. Our schedule pops up on the screen to float between me and my breakfast. “You have a meeting with your agent and publicist this morning,” she says.
A groan slips from my lips before I can stifle it.
Margot shoots me a look. “Yes, I know. Not your favorite, but it has to be done. We need to discuss future plans. The articles that have been coming out lately have been … less than ideal.”
Less than ideal? Try mortifyingly unkind. Everyone these days has an opinion about me, most bad. Really bad. I grab the remote for the wall terminal and press the on button. The morning news showUp Up Up! With Chase Grand and Aria Mendozapops up. Margot winces, and Xavian stares at the screen in silent confusion.
I used to enjoy watching this show in the mornings before school. Back then, their jokes seemed so funny even when they were cruel. Part of me wonders how the celebrities who were the butt of those jokes reacted. Did they pull their hair out in clumps, too? Or were they better at ignoring the comments? Maybe they were stronger than me. I hope so. No one should have to endure abuse like this.
“Alright, everyone, so let’s get into today’s topic. The subject everyone’s talking about these days … Kallista!” Aria throws her hands up as the live audience cheers. My stomach drops when a photo of me kissing that mystery woman from the popular gay club, the Dusk Lily, appears on the screen behind the hosts.
Chase turns around and grabs onto his seat like he’s about to fall out of it. “Whoa, Aria! Can we show that this early in the morning?”
I roll my eyes. Margot goes for the remote, but I yank it away, out of her reach.
