Chapter 6
I don’t know why lying makes me sick, but every time I let myself feel guilty about something, shame seeps into me like poison. It’s like my body is trying to punish me for being a bad person. If I lose my career because I lied about myself, I probably deserve it.
I trudge downstairs, shivering despite the weighted blanket I keep wrapped around myself. The exhaustion and stress turned into a fever that hasn’t broken in two days. A puff of cold air hits my face when I open the fridge, empty except for some yogurt and bananas and a row of smoothies.
My stomach growls uncomfortably. I can’t remember the last time I ate, but I was supposed to pick up groceries today. My family is returning in two days, and I promised them I’d get some food.
I texted Marissa and she said not to worry about it, that she would ask someone to get groceries for me, but I still feel bad.
Grocery shopping is a love language. I like to get little treats my family isn’t expecting, like those chocolate sprinkles Sonia snacks on while we play Mario Kart, or a new type of cheese my moms might want to try.
I pick up my guitar and flop on the couch, strumming absentmindedly.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved that I’m out of commission for a couple of days.
Thanksgiving is right around the corner, and Marissa wanted me and Kai to be seen shopping together at Whole Foods so she could call the paparazzi on us.
WHOLESOME FOOD, WHOLESOME LOVE. KASSY SPENDS THANKSGIVING TOGETHER! I can almost see the headlines.
My family doesn’t really celebrate Thanksgiving.
Normally, my moms will order pizza and we’ll watch movies or play board games.
Kai used to come over during the weekend for our annual movie marathon.
I still remember the time we watched multiple seasons of Haikyū!
! in a day and spent hours trying to knock over a water bottle with a volleyball in his backyard.
He ended up hitting himself in the face with the ball, and I laughed so hard that I was sore for days.
We’re obviously not doing that this year. I haven’t seen him since we signed the contract, and we haven’t been texting much, considering all I’ve been able to focus on is sleeping.
The doorbell rings, a half-broken, shrill sound that echoes across the living room. It’s probably Marissa’s assistant. I put on a mask before cracking the door.
“Hey.” Kai stands on my doorstep, juggling several armfuls of groceries. “You stink of Vicks VapoRub.” He wrinkles his nose.
I crane my neck to meet his gaze, pulling my blanket cocoon closer. Why is he here? Maybe he forgot I was sick.
“Your manager said you weren’t feeling well,” he continues.
“You need food, and your moms are coming back from their trip tomorrow, aren’t they?
So don’t fight me.” Kai brushes past me before taking off his shoes and heading for the kitchen.
My mind feels foggy as I follow him, trying to process. He got me food.
“They’re coming back the day after tomorrow,” I manage to say. Emotions swirl in my chest, leaving me at a loss for words. “Thank you.”
“No need,” Kai says, unpacking the food. “This is the tofu your mom likes, isn’t it? The not-too-soft, not-too-hard one?”
I don’t know how he remembers that. “Yeah.”
“Your fridge is giving me depression.” His face twists into a scowl as he peruses the empty shelves before throwing me a look over his shoulder.
“This is what I would think of if someone asked me to draw the feeling of sadness.” His expression turns stern.
“Is this all you’ve been eating while sick? ”
“No.”
I mean, it’s not a lie. I also had some sushi Marissa left, and some cereal.
It’s not that I’m trying to be a health nut.
I just can’t muster up the energy to cook lately, no matter how I try, and everything feels wrong in my mouth.
Bananas, smoothies, and yogurt are things I don’t get tired of having, plus they’re cold and nutritious and have familiar flavors.
“I’ll make us something. Easy to eat, I promise.
” Kai turns to me. “You can shower while I organize these, if you need to.” He reveals two steaming containers of soup from a paper bag.
The smell of rice and chicken envelops me, making my mouth water.
Kai rummages through the cabinets like it’s second nature.
Like he’s home, not at the place of the girl who dumped him two years ago.
The knot in my chest tightens. How can he still care about me this way? Why’s he doing this?
“Sash?” He waves a hand at me when he catches me staring. “Sounds good?”
“Um?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Before I can react, he moves closer, placing the back of his hand on my forehead. “You have a fever. When was the last time you took your temperature?”
“I’m fine,” I say, turning away. I don’t need him to take care of me. I can handle it.
There’s something different about the way he touches me now, though. When we were dating, he would be so dramatic if we were more than five feet apart. But when Kai touches me now, it’s calm. A wave crashing on the shore, coming and going.
I tread upstairs to shower, leaving him alone in the kitchen. By the time I come back, dressed in a fresh set of pajamas and my hair tied in a loose ponytail, my fever is down a little.
I half expect him to be gone by how silent the house is. It wouldn’t be the first time Kai left without saying anything, but he’s still in the living room, drawing on his tablet.
“How are you feeling?” Kai’s head pops up from the couch. The blankets are folded and put away, a game is queued up on the TV, and there are two bowls on the table, steam swirling like tiny clouds.
“I’m okay.” I sink into my seat, cradling the warm bowl between my palms. A blend of rice, veggies, and chicken coats my tongue when I take a bite, and I’m instantly taken back to the countless sleepovers we had at his place.
Mia, Kai, and I would huddle together in his basement to pull all-nighters before finals.
Sometimes Kai’s grandpa would cook for us, sharing embarrassing stories of Kai when he was little.
“Did V? Oliveira cook this?” I ask, but it’s clear the moment I taste it. His grandpa made this. “Canja de galinha, right? I still remember.”
“He heard you weren’t feeling well.” Kai shrugs and looks away. “He knows you love his cooking. You know how he is.”
A weight settles on my chest. I haven’t even asked Kai what he’s told him, or his parents, what story he’s spun for them. He’s suddenly in the headlines, dating the girl that broke his heart. Does his family think we’re together again?
“Have you seen that video of Toad yelling-singing one of your songs?” Kai points a finger at the TV. “It’s hilarious.”
“Does your family know?” I grip my bowl until my fingertips burn from the heat. I shouldn’t be this blunt, but the voice inside my mind is screaming You’re a bad person. “Do they think we’re back together, or do they know … about the contract?”
“They know,” he says matter-of-factly. “They’d be suspicious if I suddenly made sixty thousand dollars out of nowhere. They’d think I was mixed up in some shady business.”
“This is some shady business.” I fidget with the edge of my blanket. “Does your grandpa hate me?”
Did he hate me then, when we broke up?
I lower my head and focus on picking at the lint on the blanket. I can’t bring myself to look up at Kai. You’re a bad person.
“You’re not easy to hate, Sash.” Kai’s voice is soft, laced with a hint of something unspoken. The air between us thickens with whatever it is. I steal a sideways glance at him as he fumbles for his tablet and begins sketching again.
“What are you drawing?” I ask, if only to break the silence before it settles.
The character he’s doing line art for looks like some sort of vigilante. He’s wearing a gadget around his arm, standing in the rain, completely soaked as he watches the sunrise.
“Oh, um. An original character.” His grip tightens around his digital pen. “It’s not really good. I don’t know if I’ll ever publish it.”
I guess our creative process is different.
Kai keeps his art close to his heart, no matter how bad he wants to share it with the world.
For me, the idea of sharing my art with my fans makes my stomach flutter.
But Kai’s art is like a piece of himself that will only be worthy of being shared when it’s perfect.
“Who’s he?” I ask. “He reminds me of that dude, what’s his name? Spider-Punk?”
Kai’s face lights up. “He was one of my inspirations! I love this color palette, and I’m trying to make these lines irregular on purpose to showcase his mental health. He just lost his partner. Love of his life. They went through a lot together.”
“Can I see her?”
“Not a she,” he says. Oh? That’s new. Before I can ask him to show me, he sighs and puts the pen down. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t think people will like this art style. It’s too niche.”
I shrug. “I like your art style.”
Maybe it’s not for everyone, but it’s interesting, and it draws you in. Every line and color jumps off the page, like they’re forcing emotions out of you.
“Yeah, but you’re weird.”
“Huh?” I lean away on the couch so I can shove his shoulder with my foot. “And? Being weird is awesome. If you ask me, it’s better to make interesting art.”
“I need to draw in a way that everyone will like.” He slumps against the cushions. “Otherwise the story will get overshadowed by the way I draw the characters.”
“I disagree. I think it will make your story stand out.”
“The pile of rejections sitting in my inbox would disagree.”
“Well, fuck rejections. You have me now. Just go for it.”
“You?” Kai stills for a moment, his expression a blend of amusement and confusion.