Two weeks. It had been two weeks since that ridiculous argument with Zaya, and somehow, I was still feeling the lingering irritation.
Who did she think she was, lecturing me on who I should or shouldn't hang out with? We weren't even friends.
She was just… Zaya, the cold, unreachable actress with a perpetual frown. And I was not some little girl who needed her judgmental advice or her constant scrutiny.
Each time I thought about her scolding tone, her condescending smirk, I felt the frustration bubble up again.
I couldn't understand why she acted like I was her responsibility. We were both adults. We were here to work, nothing more. And yet, she had the audacity to try and control my interactions.
I sighed, sinking into my seat as Maya's car cruised toward the studio. It was a relief that her car was back up and running, sparing me from the tension-filled drives with Zaya.
