The Rockstar's Redemption

4. Did you have a bad night?

4. Did you have a bad night?

It’s no surprise that the next day, when Reid wakes up and finds me in the kitchen making breakfast, he looks at me with his usual indifference. There’s no sign he remembers what happened last night. I don’t mention it either; it’s better if we both forget.

That includes my body too.

Still, it shocks me how easily he can switch from cold to warm. Reid’s presence drags me through an emotional rollercoaster; the man who acted last night seems completely different from the one sitting in front of me now.

“Did you clear my computer already?” I ask, serving myself breakfast. As usual since he’s been able to walk, I leave his breakfast in the kitchen for him to serve himself.

“Do you need it?”

I grit my teeth in annoyance.

He never answers my questions. If he does, it’s with another question.

I spread jam on my toast, focusing on the simple task that suddenly feels anything but simple under his intense gaze.

Oh, is he waiting for an answer?

Just to return the favor, I take my time responding, still working on my toast. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, expecting to see him impatient. He doesn’t. I grit my teeth, frustrated for failing to annoy him the way he annoys me.

“Yes, I’d like to use it,” I finally say.

“I’ll bring it, but don’t take too long; I’ll need it later.”

Unintentionally, I snap my toast from the force of my grip at his reply. There he is, thinking he owns everything. So arrogant, so used to having whatever he wants.

Someone should remind him that before being a rock star with fans at his feet, he’s a person. Just like everyone else. Everyone!

Calm down, Willa.

When he returns from the bedroom with my computer in hand, I look at him with a little anger.

“You can’t keep acting like this.”

He raises an eyebrow, asking what I mean. Because he doesn’t talk. Reid Colleman doesn’t give up words willingly. At least, not with me.

Trying to stay calm, I say, “You think you own everything.”

“I don’t.”

My eyes stay on him as I watch him serve himself breakfast. Then, for the first time since he’s lived with me, he sits in the tiny chair across from me… Reid sits down to eat with me.

I choke on my toast.

Yes, the same damn toast.

Reid watches me silently as I cough uncontrollably, trying not to choke or die in front of the annoying rock star.

“Yes, you think you own everything,” I say once I’ve calmed down.

“No.”

“Yes,” I insist stubbornly.

“On what basis are you saying that, Blue?”

There it is, that dumb nickname.

“Don’t call me Blue, I have a name, it’s Willa.”

I almost see a hint of amusement in his eyes, but I’m not sure. Until now, I’ve never seen an expression other than indifference.

Calmly and slowly, he rests his elbows on the table, looking at me with those piercing eyes of his.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Just like you never answer mine.”

I watch, annoyed, as he runs his thumb over his bottom lip, as if hiding a laugh. And I swear, if the first time I hear his laugh is because he’s mocking me, I’ll break another toast… but in his head.

He continues staring at me, waiting for my answer.

But guess what?

I don’t answer.

Yes, it’s childish, I know.

I don’t care.

Reid lets out a long, heavy sigh that catches my attention. And it annoys me: how it seems I’m programmed to register every single one of his expressions and movements. Reid Colleman is so expressionless, so devoid of feelings, that every gesture or look is like a rare treasure.

And the worst part is, against my own judgment, those treasures seem to interest me way too much.

When he returns my gaze with furrowed brows, I’m surprised to see him slightly annoyed. It’s the first real emotion I’ve seen on him.

“Did you have a bad night, Blue?”

His question surprises me, and again, I choke on my toast.

“Why would you say that?” I play dumb, because if we’re bringing up last night, it’ll be on his account, not mine.

He doesn’t answer, and soon starts eating in silence. I wonder if he gets satisfaction from leaving all my questions unanswered.

Unable to keep my mouth shut, I speak: “Reid, seriously, we need to set some rules for living together. I think—”

“What time does your shift end at the hospital?”

What?

I shake my head.

Such a weird question, coming from him.

“Midnight,” I reply, concerned.

He chews the last bit of his toast and stands, walking with that mysterious air toward the kitchen. How can he make such a mundane action as washing breakfast dishes seem enigmatic? I don’t know, but he does.

Even though his large body doesn’t clash at all with my tiny kitchen, and his tattooed hands look so masculine against my delicate, feminine dishes, he’s a whole show, and I find myself watching him, completely captivated.

I shake my head, forcing myself out of my daydream. I look at my empty plate, unsure when I even finished eating. I quickly get up to leave the dishes on the counter and wash them after he leaves the kitchen.

The two of us in such a small space is not a good idea. Yet, Reid surprises me again when he asks:

“Do you walk home alone at that time?”

It takes me a moment to understand he’s asking about my way home after my hospital shift. Before I can answer, he starts washing where I had eaten. I look at him, totally surprised, because it’s the first time he’s done that; he usually only washes what he uses. Not unnoticed, it’s also the first time he asks about my life.

Today seems to be the day Reid Colleman surprises me.

I wonder what he dreamed about last night.

“Jason sometimes comes with me,” I tell him honestly.

He just nods, leaving the dishes aside. I take them and dry them before putting them in the dishwasher.

Seeing that he says nothing more, I add, “Jason is my best friend.”

Why did I say that?

I shake my head, scolding myself internally, because Reid doesn’t care. Sharing information about my life when no one asks is a bad habit I need to stop. But silences with him sometimes drive me crazy, and I feel this uncomfortable need to fill them. Which is worse, because those uncomfortable silences get even worse once my mouth opens.

Not knowing what to do, I stay planted on the floor, staring at my hands, waiting for him to continue the conversation. Amazingly, I like that he talks; I like talking with him. It feels… nice.

Despite how much he irritates me, how annoying he can be, I missed having a conversation with someone at home, I missed eating in company.

I feel vulnerable beside him because, even though his silences annoy me, and it bothers me that he hardly speaks—because it makes me feel he doesn’t trust me—I’ve learned to enjoy his company, his presence. Just knowing he’s home, with me, comforts me.

It’s such a strange feeling to have.

“Blue?”

I nibble my lip, suddenly nervous. I slowly raise my gaze, looking at him through my lashes.

“Yes?”

When Reid’s brown eyes meet mine, I catch my breath. His gaze is always too much for me. There’s so much in those eyes… so many hidden feelings I can’t name.

I wonder what’s going through his head, and suddenly I want to know what he thinks of me. Is he silent with everyone or just me? Is he like this because he finds me annoying, clumsy, untrustworthy?

I sigh and look away for a second, suddenly exhausted from how fast my mind works when it comes to him.

I think Reid Colleman could be lethal to my sanity.

“Aren’t you going to use your computer?” he asks, pointing at the table where the device rests.

The computer!

“Yes!” I close my eyes, embarrassed as the word bursts out in an excited shout. “Yes, the computer, I’m going to use it. Right now, I’ll use it.”

He nods, looking at me, maybe with some amusement.

I half-turn on my feet and let out an inevitable nervous giggle.

What’s happening to me around him?!

It’s like I insist on embarrassing myself.

I quickly grab the computer, sit on the sofa with it on my lap, and open my social media. I browse the internet absentmindedly, waiting for Reid to lock himself in his room. Just as he does, I open an incognito window and type “Reid Colleman.”

Immediately, thousands of results pop up, but I go for what I think is safest: Wikipedia. I read quickly, careful that he doesn’t leave his room and catch me. But when I hear the shower turn off, I relax and continue reading more calmly.

The page says Reid Colleman is twenty-seven, started his career at seventeen with the release of his first single, “Inside,” which hit number one on the Billboard Hot 100 in several European countries and the United States. He’s been in a relationship with Katarina Volkov, the famous actress, for three years…

I stop, rereading the last part.

Reid has a girlfriend?

I swallow. A strange sensation crushes my stomach. I quickly run my hand over it, dismissing the feeling and blaming it on the stupid toast that made me choke several times.

I keep reading, finding more of his hits, music videos, and awards, but I go straight to what matters most: his personal life. I need to know if there’s someone worried about him… besides his girlfriend.

What I discover instantly discourages me because it’s truly sad. His parents died four years ago in a car accident that has little information available. According to the note, the only survivor was Reid himself, who was in one of his luxury cars with his driver and parents.

I check if he has more family, but there’s nothing. No cousins, uncles, grandparents, much less a twin brother. Nothing.

Did Reid lie to me about his brother?

I jump when my bedroom door opens, but I manage to close the incognito window just in time, before Reid catches me. I was so absorbed in what I was reading that I didn’t even notice when the shower stopped.

I hear his footsteps in the kitchen and take it as my cue to end my little investigation. I do what I would any other day: I go to YouTube, search for videos on how to knit, and watch them carefully while playing with my toes.

Reid and I don’t speak again for the rest of the day.