"Wh-what?" Calla stuttered, wiping water off her mouth. She placed the glass gently on the table, her eyes on Sofia.
"Oh, come on. It's so obvious." Sofia rolled her eyes, chewing on the scrambled egg. "I mean, your hair is such a mess—like someone had their hands in it all nightttt," she dragged, her eyes moving to her brother.
Rico just sat there, unbothered. He ate his food quietly.
Calla bowed her head, too embarrassed to look at Sofia. Even the food tasted bland in her mouth all of a sudden. She couldn't say a word to refute.
But why should she be embarrassed? It's not like she's a saint or something. She's a freaking escort, and Rico isn't her first or second. She should be used to this.
"Oh my gosh, you're also wearing his shirt! You must be really special," Sofia added, giggl
