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“You okay?” I ask.
“I’m good. You were tired,” he says.
“I guess so. It all kind of hits you at once,” I tell him. “You want to talk about it?” I can see how angry he is. I can see the anger dancing in his eyes, and I hate it. I don’t like seeing him like that.
“Ex-girlfriend. She cheated, and apparently, she loves me now,” he says, nearly rolling his eyes.
“Maybe she made a mistake,” I offer up.
“Yeah, one there is no comin’ back from. I don’t like cheaters,” he tells me, and I can see the truth in his eyes.
“That makes two of us,” I add. He smiles then and walks toward me, cupping my cheek in his hand.
“You deserve so much more,” he tells me before pulling away and walking toward the kitchen. I follow behind him and see he’s already got food made.
“You need to eat,” he says, nodding toward a plate. I walk over and sit at the island as he shoves a plate of food in front of me.
“You’re going to make me fat,” I tell him. This isn’t the first time he’s fed me. He seems to always have food ready for me when I wake up.
“Nah. You could use a little meat on you. They make you stay that thin?” he asks, nodding toward my body. I’ve never looked at myself as super thin before. All I know is what I’m told. I’m told to be skinny, and I do what I must in order to make that happen.
“Yeah. They have rules,” I tell him.
“What rules?”
“I have to be a certain weight, or they won’t try to get me roles in certain films,” I tell him.
“That’s bullshit. I fuckin’ hate Hollywood. Always tryin’ to make people be what they want and not who they are,” he says. No one has ever really said that to me. My mom always told me to go with what they told me to do, and I did.
“It’s hard at times. Some days, I don’t eat; some days, I work out until I feel like passing out.”
“That’s not life, Olson.”
“It is, though. It’s my life,” I admit to him.
“Doesn’t sound very fun. What’s it like?”
“It is fun. At times, anyway. You get to be someone else. You get to pretend that you have so much more, and when you’re in character, you’re free. You let everything else go. You let your life go, and you become who they scripted you to be.”
“That doesn’t sound like a life to me. I think you’re great. Gettin’ lost as someone else doesn’t make real life go away,” he points out.
“It does for a while.” He nods his head but doesn’t say anymore. He grabs his plate and comes to sit next to me, eating his food while I pick at mine.
“You gotta eat that,” he says, nodding toward the food on the plate.
“I can’t eat all of it.”
“You have to. I made it for you,” he tells me.
“You cooked?”
“I’ve been cookin’. You were asleep,” he informs me.
“I can’t believe you’ve been cooking. I need to repay you. That isn’t part of your job,” I tell him quickly before taking a bite of the best pasta I think I’ve ever had in my life. I moan around the mouthful, and Ridge smiles.
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“Oh my God. This is so good. Yes, I do. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anything this good in … well, ever.”
