* * *
My eyes land on my alarm clock. It’s two in the morning, and my eyes refuse to get tired. I hate the night the most. I always find myself tossing and turning until I’m left in the silence of my thoughts. Being in the dark only makes me feel more alone.
My stomach growls, and I cry silently onto my pillow. The silk fabric absorbs the salty liquid that runs down my cheeks at a slow pace.
I ate dinner today. I didn’t have a choice as I sat with my brothers around the dinner table. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve found it easier to pretend I’m doing better than to feel like I’m being a bother to everyone else.
What made me feel guiltier was throwing up my dinner in the quietness of my bathroom after counting the calories, knowing I’m playing everyone around me.
I hate that.
But I’m tired. I’m so tired.
CHAPTER17
LEVI
It’s been a couple of days since the total bombshell of having to fake date Amelia was announced. And I haven’t heard a word from her. I can’t contact her myself since I gave her my number. So, I’m waiting impatiently for a message from her. Our teams said we have one week to post a photo on her social media.
Time is ticking.
And as much as I don’t want to do this, I really don’t want to hear my team whining. Hey, if they complain to me, I’ll be my inner child and point fingers at her.
“Lee,” Stella whines. When I take my eyes off the mac and cheese I’m making her for dinner, she pouts. “Your phone is dinging like crazy! It’s hurting my ears.”
She extends my phone up to me, and I smile and take it from her grasp.
“Thanks, princess.”
Glancing down at the screen, I see five emails from Justin and Amelia as they talk back and forth, making me run a hand down my face.
Make the pictures sexy.
A picture better be posted soon.
Meet up tonight if you have to.
Re-create the picture I sent you.
I don’t think anyone has ever irritated me more than this guy does. It makes me wonder how Times Three has put up with him for as long as they have.
Expecting a text from Amelia any second, I turn off the stove and drain the water from the pasta before dumping the cheese pack into the noodles and stirring it. Making a plate for Stella, I walk over to where she sits and place it in front of her.
“Bon appétit,” I tell Stella.
Her tiny fingers clench her spoon, and she smiles at me as she stuffs a bite into her mouth.
My phone dings. I knew it. Taking my eyes off my sunshine, I glance at the message from Amelia.
Amelia
When do you want to take this stupid picture?
I smirk down at the text message, sensing her distaste.
Me
Never.
