"Noted," I said. I was still smiling from Brayden's breakup, and this only added to my good mood. Although, admittedly, the painting kind of lost me a little - as the abstract nature of his art often did. The lily, despite being more stylized and "badass" than the prim one on my cheek, was still clearly identifiable. It was even done in gold paint. Splashes of free-form scarlet paint surrounded it, and around the red was an almost crystalline pattern in ice blue. It was striking, but if there was some deeper meaning, it was beyond me.
"You're in an awfully good mood," he observed. "Was there a sale at Khakis-R-Us?" I gave up on my artistic interpretation and turned to him. "Nope. Brayden broke up with me."
Adrian's smirk faded. "Oh. Shit. I'm sorry. Are you... I mean, do you need a drink? Do you need to, uh, cry or anything?"
I laughed. "No. Weirdly, I'm fine. It really doesn't bother me at all. But it should, right?
Maybe there's something wrong with me."
Adrian's green eyes weighed me. "I don't think so. Not every breakup is a tragedy. Still...
you might be due for some kind of comfort."
He straightened and walked over to the kitchen. Puzzled, I watched as he pulled something from the freezer and rifled through his silverware drawer. He returned to the living room and presented me with a pint of pomegranate gelato and a spoon.
"What's this for?" I asked, accepting the offering out of shock alone.
"For you, obviously. You wanted pomegranate, right?"
I thought back to the night at the Italian restaurant. "Well, yeah... but you didn't need to do this..."
"Well, you wanted it," he said reasonably. "That, and a deal's a deal."
"What deal?"
"Remember when you said you'd drink a regular can of pop if I didn't smoke for a day?
Well, I calculated the calories, and that's the same as a serving of this. If you can believe there are four servings in that tiny thing."
I nearly dropped the gelato. "You... you went a day without smoking?"
"Almost a week, actually," he said. "So you can eat the whole thing if you want."
"Why on earth would you do that?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Hey, you laid out the challenge. Besides, smoking's an unhealthy habit, right?"
"Right..." I was still stunned.
"Eat up. It's going to melt."
I handed the gelato back. "I can't. Not with you watching. It's too weird. Can I eat it later?"
"Sure," he said, returning it to the freezer. "If you'll really eat it. I know how you are." I crossed my arms as he stood opposite me. "Oh?"
He fixed me with a disconcertingly hard look. "Maybe everyone else thinks your aversion to food is cute - but not me. I've watched you watch Jill. Here's some tough love: you will never, ever have her body. Ever. It's impossible. She's Moroi. You're human. That's biology. You have a great one, one that most humans would kill for - and you'd look even better if you put on a little weight. Five pounds would be a good start. Hide the ribs. Get a bigger bra size."
"Adrian!" I was aghast. "You... are you out of your mind? You have no right to tell me that!
None at all."
He scoffed. "I have every right, Sage. I'm your friend, and no one else is going to do it. Besides, I'm the king of unhealthy habits. Do you think I don't know one when I see it? I don't know where this came from - your family, too many Moroi, or just your own OCD nature - but I'm telling you, you don't have to do it."
"So this is some kind of intervention."
"This is the truth," he said simply. "From someone who cares and wants your body to be as healthy and amazing as your mind."
"I'm not listening to this," I said, turning away. A mix of emotions churned in me. Anger.
Outrage. And weirdly, a little relief. "I'm going. I never should have come by." His hand on my shoulder stopped me. "Wait... listen to me." Reluctantly, I turned. His expression was still stern, but his voice had softened. "I'm not trying to be mean. You're the last person I want to hurt... but I don't want you hurting yourself either. You can ignore everything I just said, but I had to get it out, okay? I won't mention it again. You're the one in control of your life."
I looked away and blinked back tears. "Thanks," I said. I should have been happy he was going to back off. Instead, there was an ache inside me, like he'd torn something open that I was trying to ignore and keep shut away. An ugly truth I didn't want to admit to myself, which I knew was hypocritical for someone who claimed to deal in facts and data. And whether I wanted to agree with him or not, I knew without a doubt he was right about one thing: no one else would've told me what he just had.
"Why did you come by anyway?" he asked. "You sure you don't want to make my awesome painting the new Alchemist logo?"
I couldn't help a small laugh. I looked back up at him, willing to help him with the abrupt change in subject. "No. Something much more serious."
He looked relieved at my smile and gave me one of his smirky ones in return. "Must be really serious."
"That night at the compound. How did you know how to drive the Mustang?" His smile vanished.