Lakshmi gave a muttered curse and grabbed her by thearm to march Jia over to the chaise opposite the one she’d been sitting on. She shoved Jia down, and Jia was too worked up to protest being manhandled. “I bet you never cry,” she whispered. Lakshmi probably absorbed her own tears and used them for fuel.
“I cry sometimes.”
That startled Jia enough that she subsided to sniffles. “You do?”
Lakshmi grimaced. “No, I’m trying to make you feel better. But I do have emotions.” She handed Jia a napkin. “I’m guessing your love life isn’t as rosy as the media made it out to be?”
“No.” Jia blew her nose. “It’s not.” And then, because it seemed like everyone in this house might as well know, she ran through the highlights of her and Dev’s relationship, catfishing included.
“Hmm,” Lakshmi said, when she was done. “Interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“Yes. More interesting than I thought you could be. No offense, but you always struck me as kinda shiny and smooth and soft. No depth, you know?”
Jia clutched her snotty napkin. “How am I supposed to not be offended by that?”
“It’s not as if you like me much either,” Lakshmi said matter-of-factly.
“I didn’t dislike you! I pretended to not like you because I didn’t want you to think I cared that you didn’t like me!”
“Huh.” Lakshmi squinted. “Why did you care?”
“Everyone wants people to like them.”
“No, they don’t.” Realization dawned in the other woman’s dark eyes. “Oh, you’re one of those.”
“One of those what?”
“One of those kids who was raised with weaponized disappointment, so you’re super insecure and crave external validation and when you perceive the slightest rejection you convince yourself you’re a failure, all while pretending you’re a tough cookie who doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about you.”
Jia’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, shit.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh,shit.”
Lakshmi gave a sympathetic nod. “Yeah.”
“Oh, shit.”
Lakshmi handed Jia her coffee mug and Jia took a deep drink, coughing slightly. It was bitter but the black brew washed the uncharacteristic swears out of her mouth. “How did you know that?”
Lakshmi lifted her chin and draped her arm over her knee, her dress flowing around her. The silver studs on her boots gleamed in the sunlight. “I am good. Also, hello Kettle. I am the Pot. Or, former Pot.”
Jia let out a shaky breath. It was like Lakshmi had peered into her soul and ripped out her deepest secret. “How did you do it? Stop caring what people thought?”
“Oh, years of therapy. Here is the secret.” She leaned closer, and so did Jia. “I stopped.”
“Wow,” Jia deadpanned. “Amazing.”
“No, really.” Lakshmi lifted a shoulder. “I decided I hadtwo options: I could be miserable and live my life as others wanted me to, or I could be happy and do what I wanted. Boiled down to that, the choice was easy.”
“Buthowdo I stop?”
“Be confident. Twist what others tell you are your weaknesses into strengths. What did I call you? Soft? You’re kind.”
Jia played with the napkin. “Flighty.”
