She so desperately wanted it to be the truth and to never change that she worried she was strangling it, strangling herself. Her own insecurities were real and raw. He knew about them, of course. She’d told him about all of her issues. But that didn’t mean it would change anything in the end.
She shook her head, frustrated with her dark thoughts. Fishing out her phone, she dialed his number, desperate for a friendly voice. It went straight to voice mail, and in shock, she glared at her phone. Her breath started coming out quickly. She had to close her eyes to try to push back the threat of hyperventilation.
“Fuck,” she whispered. She needed to get this under control.
What the hell was happening to her?
When had she turned into this shell of a woman?
She gasped and looked upward. Her frustration was replaced with anger—anger at herself for letting this get to her. She needed to put this into her art, not obsess over a phone call.
Damon would call her back. He would.
Hours later, Trihn’s phone lit up.
She looked up, bleary-eyed, at the display. She had been staring at her designs all night. She had made some headway on a few, but overall, she felt like she was too close to the clothes to really see how she needed to move forward.
She reached for the phone and answered it, “Hey.”
“Trihn, fuck, I’m so sorry. I meant to call you back hours ago,” Damon said.
“Oh, that’s okay,” she lied. “I’ve just been at the studio. What have you been up to?”
“Chloe’s manager called me. I was on the phone with him when you called me, and then when I got off the phone, Chloe called right away.”
“Really?” she asked.
“Yeah. So weird that Chloe Avana called me. What is my life?” He laughed huskily. “We talked for a while. She was on her way to New Orleans for the last stop on her tour.”
“Great.” She lacked all emotion in her voice.
“Are you okay?”
“Yep.” No.
“Okay,” he said softly. “Well, they listened to the other stuff I’d sent over, and they liked it. They’re going to take it to the studio heads to see what happens. Still no guarantees, but Chloe thought that meant I should hear soon what they want to do.”
“Did she think that?” Trihn knew she sounded catty, but she couldn’t help it. She had been trying so hard to be happy about all of this. Her near panic attack earlier was making her bitchier than normal. Not to mention, she couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten.
“Okay…you seem upset. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she snapped.
“It doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“I’m just tired and hungry. I need to get out of the studio and get some sleep or something.”
“Why don’t you come over here? I can make you something, and we can talk about this.”
“I really don’t want to talk right now.”
He sighed heavily. “I don’t want you to go to sleep angry.”
“I’m not angry,” she practically shouted. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Fuck, she needed to calm down.
“Trihn, just come over. I can tell you’re upset. I want talk to you in person about what’s going on in that head of yours. I don’t want this to simmer between us.”
Trihn grumbled and started packing up all her stuff. “Fine. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
She gathered up the last of her supplies, locked her designs up in her assigned locker, and then carried her sketchbook with her out of the studio. She hurried across the quad and down a long pathway until she reached the parking lot ten minutes later.
Her nerves were shot by the time she pulled up in front of Damon’s apartment. The drive had cleared her thoughts. Too long in the studio coupled with her issues with relationships and Damon’s newfound success hadn’t done well for her psyche.
She felt pretty stupid that she’d let everything get to her and that she had snapped at Damon when he was just excited about his blossoming opportunities in the music industry.
As she took the stairs to his apartment, she started humming the melody to her anthem, “My Own Worst Enemy” by Lit. She knocked twice and then waited.
Damon pulled the door open. He was on the phone but gestured for her to come inside. Her guard automatically went up. It had only taken her fifteen minutes to get over to his place, and already, he was on the phone with someone else again.
“Hey, I’ve got to go,” Damon said, closing the door behind her. “Yeah. It was good to talk to you, too. Sure. I’ll let her know. Night. Love you.”
Trihn recoiled into herself and hurried over to the living room. She dropped her bag down on the coffee table before turning back to Damon. She anticipated the blow that was sure to follow.
“Hey,” he said with a bright smile. “My mum says to tell you that she hopes you can come by this week for dinner. She said she’d make whatever you wanted.”
“That was Mel?” Trihn asked hesitantly.
Damon cocked his head to the side. “Yeah. Who did you think it was?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…”
“Think I throw I love yous around pretty casually?” he asked with a gleam in his eye.
“I…well, I don’t know what I thought.”
“Well, I don’t. Just to my mum.”
“That’s good,” she admitted. She didn’t want to tell him what she’d thought was going on.