“You were still on a training potty when you were four?”
“It was achoice. The real one hurt my flat butt.” Phoenix flipped the pancakes. “Let’s focus on your writer’s block.”
“No, this conversation issomuch better.”
“Because it’s distracting you from the fact that your brain can’t generate good song lyrics that you’re passionate about.”
I sighed. “You really should get your Psychology degree.”
“And be in a school environment again? Hell to the no.” He glanced at the pan. “These pancakes are almost done. Then I can ask you how you’re feeling before I make the eggs.”
“Thanks.” Out of all of my bandmates, Phoenix and I were the closest. I’d only known him for two years, not too long after I’d left Charm Street, but he was the best friend of a lifetime. He was also an ex-boyband member from Mercury Heights Records, though we’d only met a few times during our time in the spotlight. We had each other’s phone numbers, and texting every day and bonding over our experiences turned us into roommates. I couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to not have him shine on my rainy days.
When Phoenix finished the pancakes and gave me a plate, he went into his room. He came back a minute later with a pair of glasses and a notebook.
“Oh, gosh, here we go,” I said, knowing what I was in for.
“You know you love it.” He sat down at the piano. His arms pressed a few of the keys, making funny noises that made me laugh. “Dr. Phoenix Max to the max,” he sang, playing the piano. “What is your problem, my friend?”
“I can’t write a song, Dr. Max.” I glanced at my spiral notebook of no-good unused ideas. “Nothing speaks to my soul. Other than these pancakes. They’re freaking delicious.”
“Why, thank you.” Phoenix gave a little bow. “How have you been feeling?”
“I’ve been fine. I visited my family this weekend and had fun.”For the most part.
Phoenix raised a dark eyebrow. “Nothing went wrong?”
I sighed. He could read me so well. “I found a magazine that talked about Charm Street and where we are now. It mentioned how I’ve fallen off the face of the earth while my other bandmates still plan to be in the spotlight.”
“The small brand of magazines or the hot brands in every grocery store for bored suckers to grab in the checkout line?”
“Did you really have to elaborate? And don’t call my mom a sucker.”
“But you’re dead, man. She can throw those magazines in the trash and find something actually worthy of reading, like nonfiction or trashy romance novels.”
“Geez, thanks. That makes me feel so relieved and appreciated.”
He smiled, looking at me from above his glasses. “You’re more alive than ever. However, in the public eye, you’re deceased. No disrespect—you were the best in the group by a landslide, even better than Walmart Harry Styles—but all your fans have moved on to other things.” He shrugged. “At least all ten of mine had.”
I let out an ugly laugh. “Hey, no need to hate on Justin and your ten fans.”
His lips curved in a small smile. “Joking, joking.” He wrote a few things in his notebook. “So, anxiety. Have you had any panic attacks lately?”
“No.” I couldn’t remember the last time I had a panic attack, which was a good thing. “I’ve been anxious before, though not to the point where I feel like my lungs are going to cave in and I’m going to pass out. It could be my medication, or maybe I’m just finally improving.”
I hated talking about my medication or admitting that I needed it, but the panic attacks and the meltdowns had gotten out of control when I quit my group. I doubted how much it actually worked, but I was running out of things to try.
“Good to know.” Phoenix nodded. “So, time for the elephant in the room. How have things been with Celeste?”
My stomach twisted into a knot. “Good.”
Phoenix narrowed his dark eyes. “We’re supposed to be honest in these sessions.”
“Who says I’m not being honest?”
“Your body language.”
I looked down at my crossed arms, my jaw aching from how hard I’d clenched it. “It doesn’t matter. I mean, the breakup does matter, but what matters more is that we found a healthy way to end things. It’s been twelve days already.”