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.”