Page 167 of The Broken Note

“I’m not hungry.” I push the plate away.

She studies me as if gauging whether it would be more prudent to piss me off by insisting or to just let it pass.

My shoulders tighten.

Her fingers reach for the makeup brush as the moment passes.

I tilt my face up to the light, body numb. Mind empty. She pastes liquid on my face. Powders. Lipstick. Sharp things close to my eyes that could blind me.

I almost wish they would.

I don’t want to look at myself.

But she turns my chair around.

My reaction is the same as it has been since I got here—nothing. Makeup on or off, I don’t recognize myself anymore.

A familiar voice comes from the hallway. The door opens and lets in the screams of fans. Some of them are here to see me. Most of them are here to seePain & Punishment, a new band from Jarod Cross’s studio label.

It doesn’t matter.

None of it matters.

“Cadence.”

I glance up at the mirror. A handsome face stares back at me. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Strong jaw.

“Hunter,” I call his name in the same patronizing tone.

“You need to eat.”

“I’ll eat when I’m hungry.”

“I haven’t seen you touch food since we got here.”

“I ate granola bars in my hotel room.”

“Granola bars?”

I shrug. The least Jarod Cross can do is pay an exorbitant amount for my forage through the mini bar.

“I’m done,” the makeup artist says. She peers up at Hunter and bats her eyes.

He doesn’t give her a single look.

I spot her sigh of disappointment and watch as she hurries out of the room. I wonder what she imagines her life would be if Hunter actually reciprocated her signals. What does she really want from him? Acknowledgement that he sees her? That she’s pretty? Does she want him to take her up to his hotel? Does it stop there? Does she want more?

She’s been flirting with him every day. Can’t she see he doesn’t want any of those things with her?

There’s a part of me that hates her. Probably because she reminds me of myself.

I wonder why we can’t let go of the people, the things that don’t want us back. Or worse, that are bad for us. Is it our fault? Should we hold the blame?

I dig my nails into my palm until it hurts and then I press in deeper. Don’t I deserve the pain for making bad choices?

“Cadence.”

I jolt and look at Hunter.

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