Page 33 of With a Cherry On Top

“Those are nice too,” she says, exhaling a thin stream of smoke into the sun-warmed air. Her gaze flicks over me before she adds, “Dinner was delicious.”

“Yeah?” I step closer, curious. “You didn’t eat all of it.”

She shrugs, taking another drag. “I get extra points when I don’t finish my meals, and Ineedextra points for this Friday.”

I frown. “Extra points?”

“For a concert I want Beatrice to let me go to.”

Excuse the fuck out of me?

I watch her, unable to disguise my shock but not knowing what to say. I should probably keep my mouth shut, but the way she said it—so casual, like it’s normal to starve oneself for rewards—has my stomach clenching hard.

“You and your mom, you...” I hesitate, choosing my words carefully. “You eat very little.”

“Uh-huh.”

I wait, expecting her to elaborate. She doesn’t.

“Any specific . . . reason for that?”

She bursts into laughter, her head tipping back slightly. There are butterflies in my stomach at the light, airy sound. “I have a show soon.”

I tilt my head in a silent question.

“I’m a model. Beatrice is my momandmy agent.”

“Oh.” Of course. With that body, I should have figured. Those girls from today must be models too. Is that why she calls her mom by her first name? Because they work together? Hell, maybe it’s just because Beatrice is utterly despicable and sheneeds to distance herself from the woman. “When—when’s the show?”

She chuckles again, bringing the cigarette to her lips and inhaling. “Saturday.”

Jesus. That’s five days away. Maybe I can ask what her favorite meal is and cook it for her on Monday, like a little celebration.

“Of course, there’s a shoot next week,” she adds.

I frown. “There is?”

“And the week after that.”

She must be popular, then. Maybe even famous, if she books that many shows. How does that work with her being on TOP? She has tens of thousands of followers on there. “Aren’t you...worried?”

“Like in life? Not really,” she says with a playful smirk.

“About someone figuring out who you are,” I clarify. “Would the people you model for be okay with you camming?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” She blows out smoke. “It’s only a matter of time before one of my viewers rats me out. My days are numbered.”

I expect her to say more, but she just shrugs, unbothered.

“What do I have to lose?” She taps her cigarette, watching the ash fall in a drift. “I’ll celebrate unemployment with a cheeseburger.”

My jaw tightens as I glance back at the building. “It’s not healthy to eat twelve hundred calories a day. You’re still young. Developing. Your body needs?—”

“Oh, I have lots ofneeds, Chef.”

She pulls her shoulders inwardly as if to highlight her cleavage, and my jaw locks. She’s so sexy—no, Aaron. Focus.She’sdeflecting.

“I’m serious.”

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