Page 34 of The Burdens We Share
Selene’s smile falls and she meets my eyes for a second to communicate what we both know. Her stalker. Brody doesn’t miss a beat, “What was that look? Is there something you aren’t telling us?” She presses her manager.
Selene meets Brody head on, “There is something going on, yes. I’m sure you’ve been dying to know the real reason Dallas is around Ivory so much. We’ll talk about it as a group, but not right now. Besides, I don’t believe that issue is the only thing that has Ivory acting so unlike herself.”
Brody looks impatient as if she wants to know the big secret right now, but she focuses on what’s more important. “Should we ask her?”
I assert, “I wouldn’t recommend doing that.”
“Why?” Brody asks.
“Because her moods are very volatile right now. She snaps one minute and blows up and the next she’s laughing about something,” I explain.
Selene frowns, the worry line between her brows deepening, “Keep a closer eye on her, Dallas. See if you can figure out what the problem is.”
I nod, “Of course.”
Selene gives me a grateful look before Brody’s anxious voice cuts through, “We’re all really worried.”
I reassure her, “You have nothing to worry about. Ivory is under my protection and I’m gonna do everything in my power to ensure she’s okay, mentally and physically.” I mean everyword I say with so much conviction that Selene and Brody seem to relax.
“Thank you,” Brody says quietly.
I dip my chin at her and turn around to resume watching my little devil act out her worst moments.
IVORY
I SWALLOW THE LASTbland piece of lettuce in my bowl and my stomach growls. There’s nothing worse than not feeling full after you just ate. But then again, I’m barely eating anything sufficient. I guess the phrase “trust the process” is relevant here.
I feel eyes on me and turn to find Dallas seated on the other side of the trailer. He has a brow raised at me in question and usually, under his intense stare, my cheeks would turn pink, but I don’t even have the energy to will that to life. He hasn’t said a word to me about the kiss and I haven’t said anything either. I wanted to talk to him, but I just wasn’t sure what to say. Not after he broke the kiss off. I feel awkward around him and the only way I know how to stop that awkward feeling is to avoid talking to him completely. Hence why I haven’t spoken to him at all today.
Dallas breaks the all-day silence with, “Is that all you’re eating?”
I nod, “Yeah.”
He frowns, “That’s hardly a meal.”
I shrug, “Well I’m not hungry.” Lie. Total lie. I just feel very defensive over my diet right now. I’m listening to Nara because I want to look like Cami and I don’t want to talk to anyone about it because they wouldn’t understand and they would share their unwanted opinions and offer me advice I never asked for. I’m not interested.
Dallas rises from his seat and stalks over to me, stopping before me at the table. “I think we should have a little chat.”
My eye twitches, “Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?”
He seats himself beside me at the table and leans in, his elbows on the ledge of the table. “Is this because of the stress you’re under?”
“Is what because of the stress?” I ask impatiently.
Dallas gives me a sympathetic look that almost looks strange on his stoic face, “Your attitude and your mood swings.”
I scoff and recoil, completely thrown off guard by him calling me out like that, “Mood swings? Are you serious?”
He remains silent and just looks at me, waiting for me to come to my senses. I know I’ve been moody. I know that. But when you’re hungry all the time and you can’t eat anything, you snap. You just snap and you fucking lose it and everything pisses you off and everyone pisses you off. It’s torture. And I’m putting myself through it because I want to look perfect and grow my modeling career. It’s none of his or anyone else’s business what it takes for me to get to where I want to be.
I’m about to open my mouth to snap at him when my phone rings. I remove my eyes from his and flip my phone over from where it was face down before me. I see my mom’s name flash on the screen and I sigh. I am not in the mood for her right now. I press the green answer button because if I decline, I’m stuck getting analyzed by Dallas, “Hey, Mom.”
My mom sighs, “Ivory, I have a huge problem.”
“What’s up?” I ask.
“It’s Sam. He’s gotten into a lot of trouble. It’s bad, Ivory. He’s never been in this much trouble before. He’s just so out of control, I don’t even-”
