The Rockstar Who Loves Me

Song 9 ♫ In My Room

Chemistry fucking sucked. It wasn't just that my brain wasn't entirely wired for science, but two plus two made a whole lot more sense than chemical reactions.

Growing up, Dad used to make our own shampoo with cayenne flowers and aloe vera from our garden. It was no exaggeration to say I had the best mane of hair in my class. As life grew busier, we switched to commercial shampoos and thirty years later I felt like my hair hadn't recovered.

Mom's hazy memories from back then weren't enough to help me replicate the formula, and growing the flowers from scratch would take too long. All I could do was find ready made products I could mix and match for the best results, which was why I thought I should learn the ins and outs of cosmetic chemistry.

"Ha, ha," I told myself, leaning back on the chair and stretching the kinks out of my neck and back. My room was dark except for the desk lamp, illuminating all sorts of textbooks I'd borrowed from the library that I didn't understand. I slammed one shut and let my head collapse on it.

That would be an integral part of developing our own brand, right? Knowing exactly what each product contained. Maybe I should leave it to actual experts. It was hard not to feel like a failure already in the face of all I couldn't do but wanted to.

I sat up straight and took several deep breaths. For now, I could mix up known ingredients and test the results with good ol' trial and error, just like I did with Quinta's hydrating cream. A week into using it and she'd called me earlier today to say her skin had never felt softer.

On my notebook, haphazard names of fruits, herbs and plants were written here and there. Jojoba, calendula, tea tree, olives. Honestly, nature had everything we needed and more. It was just faster and more scalable to churn out synthetic ingredients in a lab rather than plant acres upon acres of plants. But the business model I had in mind leaned on supporting agriculture in developing countries and mixing up the raw ingredients ourselves. It should still be profitable while supporting poorer economies.

If only Bryce weren't such a dick about it.

I rubbed my scalp with such fierceness my hair turned into a mop. The real if only here was that I shouldn't have let him stop me. I had wasted years trying to convince him that I could've used on researching and learning. I was only getting started, yet I felt like I'd already fallen behind.

Close to midnight, the ping of my phone getting a message sounded deafening in the quiet room. I jumped in my skin and fumbled with grabbing the device. The incoming text was from Tae Yang.

My eyebrows went up as I opened the app and read, U up?

I typed a response with narrowed eyes. This isn't a booty call, right?

LMAO, he responded right away. No, I just need an impartial opinion.

As no further messages came from him, I texted back, Color me intrigued.

I hadn't been expecting a phone call a moment later and the surprise clouded my judgement, making me miss it wasn't a phone call but a video call. Of course, as soon as it connected and he saw the state I was in, he burst out laughing.

"Shit!" With a yelp, I turned the camera away so I could fix my hair. "Give a girl more warning, will you?"

"Alright, next time," he said, still chuckling.

Meanwhile, I was was hung up on the last two words. Next time.

After I was somewhat presentable, I turned the camera back to me. "What's up?"

Tae Yang's eyes twinkled and I didn't think it was just because the lamp light. I was glad at least his hair was also a mess, as though he'd been running his hands through it for hours.