First Comes Like (Modern Love #3) - Alisha Rai Page 0,11

prayers, she started her day. Today, she’d groggily crawled right back into bed. Sleep was nice. Sleep meant she didn’t have to face herself.

Unfortunately, she had an internal alarm that didn’t quit, even when she wanted it to. Jia blinked open one crusty eye, then the other. She loved this room, with its cotton candy pink walls and feminine white furniture. It was the first place she’d lived on her own, outside her parents’ home, and had been free to decorate to her taste.

It was far too bright for her mood this morning, though. She’d forgotten to close the shades the night before when she’d crept in, and the Southern California sun was blinding, reflecting off all that white furniture.

She groped for her phone on the bed next to her but came up with a spoon instead. Her therapeutic ice cream binge had clearly exhausted her. Thank goodness she’d tossed the empty ice cream container before falling asleep clutching her utensil like a security blanket, or she’d have a real sticky morning today.

Jia swallowed and made a face. Blech. That’s what she got for not brushing her teeth before falling into her ice cream and depression coma.

She peeked under the covers and the pillow for her phone. She always woke up with her phone under her or beside her, the result of falling asleep while scrolling.

Except last night, when she’d thrown her purse—with the phone inside—on her bureau and dug face first into her dessert.

She eyed her purse, the strap innocently hanging over the side. Her fingers itched, but she knew what she’d do as soon as she had it. She’d click on Dev’s texts, read them incessantly, and obsess over what the hell had happened. Maybe even text him more. Something subtle, like what the fuck or who the fuck or why the fuck, though years of being hyperconscious of playing role model to her young fan base had knocked most of her swearing tendencies out of her.

Jia shoved back the comforter and rubbed her exhausted eyes as she rose. Her golden shot dress was draped over her armchair in a crumpled heap. She normally took good care of her clothes, but that particular dress could stay crumpled. Like her romantic dreams.

Jia yelped when she entered the bathroom and saw her own reflection. Yikes, this was not pretty. Raccoon eyes, smeared lipstick, one fake eyelash clinging to her cheek. Her bun had slipped loose at some point while she slept, and her hair was a tangled mess.

Luckily, her counter was filled to bursting with skin products and hair supplies—another perk of having her own space—and she cleaned herself up as best as she could. Once her face was scrubbed and her hair was relatively knot-free and in a low ponytail, she left the bathroom.

She got dressed quickly in tie-dyed sweatpants and a sweatshirt. “Sienna, where are Jas, Katrina, and Rhiannon?” she asked out loud.

There was a beat, and then a red pad next to her door lit up. “Jas has left the house. Rhiannon and Katrina are in the kitchen,” came the pleasant robot lady voice overhead.

It was a little past breakfast time, but Katrina had gotten more flexible since her boyfriend had started a master’s program. “Thank you.” She always thanked the AI, on the off chance the robot came to life one day and went on a murderous rampage. Sienna was the brainchild of one of the start-ups Katrina invested in, and she seemed to know more than Siri and Alexa put together.

“You’re welcome, Jia. May I say, you sound lovely today.”

Her lips twitched. Katrina had programmed Sienna to give compliments, and Jia was not above liking them. “You, too, Sienna.”

She had two options: avoid her roommates, or go right to them and blurt out all the deets on what had happened last night. Discretion wasn’t her strong suit.

She made her way downstairs to the kitchen. Jia had lived here for almost a year and a half now, and she still hadn’t lost her awe for the airy mansion. She’d grown up firmly middle to upper class, and though her work had left her with a solid savings account, there’d be no way she’d be able to afford a home like this on her own yet. She glanced out a floor-to-ceiling window at the view of Santa Barbara nestled below, the ocean a slice of blue in the distance.

Wealth disparity aside, Jia had wondered in the beginning if she’d be able to carve out a home here.