The next morning, Drew didn’t even let me sit before announcing the theme of the day.
“Today,” he said, his eyes sweeping over me with mock severity, “we’re tackling emotions. Or, in your case, how not to wear your broken little heart all over your face.”
I blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
He flicked his wrist, dramatic as ever. “Darling, you walked in here with heartbreak stamped across your face like a tabloid cover. In this industry? That’s a rookie mistake. Everyone’s watching– the paparazzi, the agents, the critics. And they don’t nudge, they strike. The moment they spot the smallest c***k?” He mimed a slow cut across his throat, his eyes glittering.
“They’ll slick you into pieces and auction off every fragment.”
I couldn't help laughing, shaking my head. “You’re so extra.”
“Extra k
