Page 60 of Knot Their Starlet

The rest of the ride to my apartment passes in a silence so thick and awkward it’s nearly suffocating. I feel bad for the driver and grateful the de-scenter from the airbrushing is still working on me. My perfume would probably be unbearable to be around right now, with the maelstrom of emotions swirling in my chest.

Left alone to my thoughts, I can’t help but think how ridiculous this is. I’m fifty percent of my father. My mom never fails to remind me of the features on my own face that remind her of him.

If she considers him to be evil, then does that make me 50% evil? Is that why I’ve never been good enough? Why she seems to hate a fundamental part of me I’ve never been able to fix?

“We’re here, Miss,” the driver calls, pulling into the roundabout in front of my apartment building.

“Thanks, Sir,” I say, flashing the driver a tight smile before slamming the door behind me.

My first breath of fresh air is ruined by Stuart rolling down the window.

“Remember what I said, Andromeda,” Stuart calls.

“Oh, I won’t forget.” I don’t bother offering the man a second glance.

The oasis that is my apartment feels tainted. Not just from the events of today, as bad as they were, but from life in general. Though the shitshow from today feels like it’s clinging to my skin like an oil spill. I’m scared to touch anything when the door shuts behind me. I’m worried I’ll ruin it even more.

I throw my clothes into the washing machine instantly, bypassing my laundry hamper entirely. I don’t want to touch them again until they’re clean. The scrubbing and the scalding hot water of the shower leave my skin tingling and bright pink. It’s the only thing that eases this feeling I can’t quite get rid of.

The feeling of judgement. Of eyes on my body. Of being dirty. Inadequate. Less than.

My pity party comes to a halt when I pick up my phone the moment I finish wrapping a towel in my damp hair. Text messages. I pray they’re not from Stuart or anyone else on my mom’s team.

They’re not.

Beck

Heya! Did you make it home safe?

It’s an innocent enough question, but it still makes my heart stutter in my chest. He’s... checking up on me?

Andi

Yeah

Beck

Are you as tired as I am?

It was definitely a long day, that’s for sure

I’m so tired I’m probably just gonna skip dinner and head to bed

Skip dinner? That’s no good

I can imagine the little crease between his perfect brows as he types it as clear as day. I’ve definitely done a lot of staring at his face, both in real life and on camera.

Andi

Well, the last thing I want to do is stand on my feet and cook myself something, so unless some private chef falls from the heavens, I think I’ll survive until tomorrow

The little text bubbles that indicate he’s typing pop up over and over again, taunting me with his response.

Shit, did I text him too casually? We are in a business arrangement. Should I be texting him more formally? Like an email in text form or something?

No, I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure if I did that, he’d say I’m acting weird.

Beck