Before I can respond, my stomach decides to pull a little stunt and grumbles. Her face stays the same and she doesn't even flinch, so I open my mouth again to talk, but it grumbles again, like some sort of monster.
Oh my God! I want to crawl into a hole and die. Damn! This is so embarrassing—
“Have you eaten anything today?” she asks in a tone that almost sounds…concerned?
“No, I've been busy,” I say nonchalantly and continue drawing, trying to shake off the embarrassment.
However, I can't continue drawing because she abruptly stands up, picks up her bag from the floor and begins rummaging through it. I don't say anything; I just watch as she fishes out a banana from her bag.
She then walks up to me. “Here, have this,” she says, handing me the banana, but I don't take it right away.
“I can't.” I shake my head and then gesture to my hands that are dirty.
Regardless of my dirty hands, I'm not the biggest fan of bananas anyway. So why is her gesture making my stomach flutter? The fact that she's even offering me food is making my head spin. Why is she being so nice?
She looks at me like she's thinking very hard right now, then she mutters under her breath. “Dumbass.” Before I can respond, she speaks again. “Open your mouth.”
“What?” I choke out almost spitting in response, but thankfully, I don't.
She doesn't react, instead she just peels the banana and brings it to my lips. “Just open it.”
I do as she tells me, for once. My mouth opens and she slowly puts the banana inside. The taste is vile, disgusting—so why do I keep chewing and why can't I take my eyes off her?
She stares down at my mouth as she feeds me as if I'm some sort of a baby, her eyebrows etched while she bites her bottom lip.
When I stare into her eyes, the taste is different. It's suddenly sweet like honey, making my mouth water for more as I chew reverently—only because she wants me to. She wants me to eat, so I will.
This is bad. This is very bad.
Chapter TWENTY-ONE
A d a l i n e
Thesilence that engulfs the room isn't uncomfortable, in fact, it's peaceful, which is utterly shocking considering that less than forty minutes ago, I fed Juliette and she didn't even try and pummel me because of it. Maybe it's not awkward because I practically sprinted back to my seat after she was done eating.
She's back to drawing me now, while I'm still dwelling on why I found it necessary to feed her. I just felt weird when I heard her stomach rumble; I felt my own stomach dropping at the sound of it.
I just knew I had to make sure she ate something. It's not like I could let her starve, because then she wouldn't be in her right mind for tutoring after she finishes her drawing.
My motivations were purely selfish.
My eyes wander this room to distract me from dwelling on any more tumultuous thoughts.
I still get shocked by how wealthy the Kingston family actually is; her art room is almost as big as my entire house!
There are drawings all over the walls, easels everywhere, and on the right side of the room, there is a whole section dedicated to what looks like…pottery?
“You do pottery?” I find myself questioning her, turning my head back to her.
Her eyes snap to me. “I used to, as a child.”
There's something different in her eyes—something that makes me want to know more—they're downcast and her tone is rigid.
“You don't anymore?” I ask curiously.
“No.”
It's simple; resolute. She doesn't even look up from the drawing when she answers.
