CHAPTER 276: CHAPTER 275: THEY’RE INSANE

They dug in without restraint.

"It’s not breakfast," Monica said, taking a bite of the soufflé first like a rule-breaker. "It’s a celebration."

"It’s damage control," Rex corrected her through a mouthful of tartare. "We burned off at least a week’s worth of calories last night."

"So," he asked curiously, cocking an eyebrow as he cut into a slice of toast piled high with caviar and crème fraîche. " "Don’t actresses have to feed on grass and air to maintain their figures? How can you eat all this and still look like that?"

Monica smirked, licking a bit of cream off her lip "Oh, please," she said with casual superiority, waving a fork dismissively. "That’s for the insecure ones, or the ones managed by devils. "You have no idea, Rex. Some of these girls are insane. I’ve seen girls nibble on a quarter of an apple and call it dinner. I’ve seen one live off protein shakes and multivitamins for two whole months: no solids, just chemical sludge. And don’t even get me started on the detox water cults."

She shuddered slightly at the memory, sipping her Sunset Whisper mocktail. "I’ve even seen one girl faint during a shoot because she hadn’t had solid food in three days. And they call that dedication."

"They’re insane."

She shook her head, disgusted. "They weigh their almonds. Literally count out seven. No salt. No oil. No joy."

Rex blinked. "Sounds like torture."

"It is," she laughed, stabbing her fork into a croissant. "I could never do that. I love food too much. Good food. Rich, flavorful, melt-in-your-mouth, bad-for-your-soul kind of food. Honestly, if someone told me I had to survive on celery sticks for a career, I’d walk away without a second thought."

He raised an eyebrow. "And you?"

She grinned proudly. "I’m built different. I’ve got a natural constitution. No matter how much I eat, I don’t gain an ounce. It’s pure genetics. My metabolism’s so fast, it should be illegal."

Rex narrowed his eyes, leaning back with mock suspicion. "So, you’re telling me you’re not human."

She licked a bit of cream off her finger and winked. "Maybe I’m not."

Both of them laughed and continued eating.

Rex added. "Same here. Eating delicious food is, like, my biggest hobby."

That made her pause mid-bite, looking at him with delighted surprise. "Really?"

He nodded again, this time deeply, as if confessing something sacred. "No matter where I go, I always hunt for the best food spots. Doesn’t matter if it’s a five-star rooftop or a dingy stall in the back of some alley, if the food’s good, I’m there."

She let out a happy sigh, eyes gleaming. "See? That’s how it should be. We only live once. If we don’t eat all the delicious food in the world, what’s the point of earning so much, living so well?"

"Exactly," Rex agreed.

"I always say," she continued, sitting up straighter, suddenly excited, "there’s no heartbreak good food can’t cure. No stress a soufflé can’t soften."

Then, with a conspiratorial grin, she leaned in.

"Alright, let me give you my top spots. She counted on her fingers as she spoke, each name like a sacred offering.

"Number one, the Wagyu sandwich at Club Figoro in West Hollywood. It’s not a sandwich, Rex, it’s an experience. Melt-in-your-mouth beef, truffle aioli, and brioche toasted so perfectly it feels illegal."

Rex raised an eyebrow, intrigued, but she wasn’t done.

"Then there’s La Mial downtown. It’s this tiny dessert bar hidden behind a flower shop, you walk through a fridge door. They serve a tiramisu encased in a chocolate dome, and when you pour hot hazelnut cream on it, it just... collapses like it’s swooning. I nearly cried the first time I ate it."

She paused, already breathless.

"And don’t even get me started on Ondu Azul in Santa Monica. Best seafood paella in the city, no competition. The chef was trained in Valencia, and he flies in the saffron weekly. One bite and your soul takes a vacation."

Rex laughed, watching her come alive like she’d just walked onto a red carpet made of risotto.

"I swear, I’d rather spend money on food than fashion," she confessed. "At least food doesn’t go out of season or stab your feet."

"You should start a food blog," Rex said, amused. "Starving Starlets: Binge Now, Cry Later."

She burst into laughter. "Honestly? That name kinda slaps."

Rex chuckled as she rattled off a growing list of restaurants, cafes, food trucks, and obscure late-night street vendors from around the world. Her excitement was infectious, her eyes shining like a child planning a treasure hunt.

He smiled. Somehow, watching her rave about food felt more intimate than anything else they’d done that morning.

They continued eating, forks clinking gently against plates as the morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains. Between bites of soufflé and tartare, Rex paused, absently rolling his neck.

Now that he thought about it...

He didn’t feel much hungover. No pounding headache, no dry throat, no foggy mind.

Huh.

He blinked, mildly surprised. Considering how much they’d drunk the night before, and how wild things had gotten afterward, he should’ve felt like roadkill.

Maybe it was his constitution. Or maybe... he glanced at Monica, who was happily devouring a strawberry shortcake like it held the secrets of the universe, maybe it was the exercise last night.

He smirked to himself and took a long sip of his Sunset Whisper mocktail.

Yeah. Probably the cardio.

...

As they lingered over breakfast, the plates slowly cleared, mocktails refilled, and conversation drifted in every direction; light, teasing, sometimes deep.

"So... wait," Monica blinked, a spoon of soufflé halfway to her mouth. "You’re still in college?"

Rex chuckled, a little sheepish. "Yeah. Technically. Got a semester or two left. Not really in a rush."

She stared at him, genuinely surprised. "But... you seem so, put together. Confident. Like someone who’s already out there conquering the world."

"Well," he shrugged with a lopsided grin, "I fake it really well."

There was a pause, then Monica’s expression softened. "What about your parents?"

Rex’s eyes flickered, but his smile didn’t waver. "They’re not really in the picture anymore. Long story. Complicated. You don’t want the sad details this early in the morning."

Monica set her fork down gently. "I’m sorry," she said, quietly.

He gave her a look, grateful, but not wanting to linger on it. "Don’t be. I got used to it. Makes it easier to carve my own path."

She nodded slowly, then looked out the window for a second, as if gathering her own thoughts. "I didn’t grow up with much either," she admitted. "Not poor, exactly. Just... invisible. Average. But I always wanted to be someone who couldn’t be ignored."

Rex listened, genuinely interested.

"I started acting in high school. Small stuff. I worked my ass off, juggled everything, auditions, side jobs, terrible roommates, the works." She laughed a little.

"And now you’re... Monica Watson," Rex said, raising his mocktail in a half-toast.

She clinked his glass, smirking. "Damn right."

They both sipped.

"I’ve seen the glamorous side, but also how dirty the industry can get. Still... I don’t regret it. I love performing. Being someone else for a while. Telling stories."

"I can see that," he said. "You light up when you talk about it."

"What about your hobbies?" she asked.

He laughed, brushing his thumb along the edge of his glass. "I like building things. Breaking them. Understanding how the world works... and how I can twist it to my advantage."

"Ooh. Dangerous."

He leaned closer, his tone playful. "And yet you’re still here."

She grinned. "Guess I like danger."

Their plates were nearly empty now, but neither of them seemed eager to move. The air between them was warm and easy, two people from different worlds, peeling back layers and slowly stitching something real between them.

(End of Chapter)