I nudge her knee with mine. “Hey, things will get better, and honestly, I don’t know how you do it. It takes a special person to be strong for people who are suffering like that. You’re amazing, Bri. Seriously.”
She smiles faintly. “Thanks, Cat, how was your day?”
“My day was… fine. Busy. I did a lot of filming, took about a million photos, and took care of all last-minute details for tomorrow’s big event. Of course I also spent the day watching the dreamboat that is Rogue Gallagher. Which was… distracting, to say the least.”
Bri perks up. “Ooooh.Tell me everything.”
I groan, covering my face with my hands. “I feel so awkward around him. His scowl could cut diamonds, and he’s just… ridiculously attractive. It’s hard not to stare.”
“And?” She presses.
“And… get this. On my way home tonight, I ranrightinto him. Literally. Headfirst into his chest. He lives here, on Ocean Ave, so we’re basically neighbors, which probably means I’m going to see him even when I’m not at work. As if staring at his billboards all over the city wasn’t enough.”
Bri’s eyes go wide. “Wait, go back. The muscles, how are they?”
I throw my head back dramatically. “Magical. Like carved-by-Archangel-Michael-himself magical.”
She wheezes out a laugh. “God, I hate you. Okay, but he was walking alone? No security?”
“Yep. I guess people haven’t figured out where he’s staying yet.” I shrug. “But when they do, brace yourself, paparazzi aregoing to be all over the place. The Strikers are gonna be trending every other day.”
Bri yawns, stretching her arms over her head. “Well, speaking of trending disasters, I have an early shift tomorrow. I need sleep if I’m going to survive another day in the trenches.”
“Fair, will you be coming over to the welcome event though.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the end of the world, of course I will be there.”
We clean up our popcorn disaster, and I head toward my room, phone in hand. I shut the door, toss my hoodie on the chair, and finally unlock my screen, heart already fluttering in anticipation.
A new Veil notification is waiting for me.
@HalfWritten:
Did you have dinner?
A smile tugs at my lips. I crawl onto the bed, my legs curling under me as I type back.
@OneLastLine:
Yes! Chicken, rice, veggies, and my daily dose ofLove Island. How about you? Did you find something sweet?
The typing dots appear almost immediately.
@HalfWritten:
I did find something sweet that I really wanted to eat… but I couldn’t. So I settled for a spoonful of ice cream.
Another pause.
@HalfWritten:
But it wasn’t my favorite flavor, so… here I am. Still craving something I can’t have.
I study the screen, chewing the inside of my cheek.
What did he want that he couldn’t have? My fingers hover over the keyboard, itching to ask, but I stop myself. If he wanted me to know, he’d say it. Maybe he’s diabetic. Maybe sugar is a dangerous temptation for him, or maybe it’s something else entirely.
Either way, my chest is warm and fluttery, a mess of curiosity and something softer I don’t want to name.
