Done Hiding as Your Backup Plaything I'm Shining Golden as a Queen - Chapter 48: Chapter 48
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It took me three solid months of dating Jax to finally accept that it wasn't some elaborate fever dream.
The reason was simple: despite his cool, aloof public persona that had half of UCLA's female population swooning, he was surprisingly clingy as a boyfriend.
Daily good morning texts that arrived like clockwork, random lunch selfies with captions like "wish you were here," and FaceTime calls that lasted until one of us fell asleep. He'd text me about what he was eating, warn me about weather changes more accurately than my weather app, and remind me to bring an umbrella when rain was forecasted.
Our winter break started mid-December.
I booked an early morning flight home to Minneapolis. After a lingering hug and kiss with Jax at LAX drop-off (and his dramatic "I'll wither away without you" speech), I boarded my plane.
The moment we touched down, Mom called.
"Liana, I'm in the pickup zone. Silver Honda."
Over the entire semester, she'd called me exactly once a month—perfunctory five-minute conversations that felt like she was checking a box on her parental duty list.
Probably because with Rosalia taking a gap year to retake the SAT, Mom's attention was fully consumed by her favorite project.
I wheeled my carry-on through the Minneapolis airport exit and spotted Mom's car idling by the curb.
When she saw me, her eyes widened like she'd seen a ghost.
"You... what on earth happened to you?"
I'd dyed the ends of my hair purple just a week ago on a spontaneous trip to a salon with my roommate. Jax had called it "hot as hell," which was all the validation I needed.
With my hair down, the purple ends created this ombré effect that was definitely eye-catching against my winter-pale skin.
"Just trying something new," I said flatly.
She pressed her lips together, clearly holding back a lecture.
I knew she hated the purple hair—anything that drew attention to me seemed to make her uncomfortable—but since we'd barely spoken in months, she didn't feel entitled to criticize.
When Mom and I walked through the front door, Rosalia was sprawled across the living room couch eating chocolate-covered strawberries and scrolling through her phone.
Mom set down her car keys with a disapproving frown. "Honey, don't you have two SAT practice tests to finish before your tutor comes tomorrow?"
"Mom!" Rosalia whined, her voice slipping into that baby-talk register that made my teeth hurt. "It's just two practice tests. I can finish them in like an hour."
As she spoke, she glanced up and froze when she saw me, her eyes immediately zeroing in on my hair.
Then she quickly looked away, as if my existence was beneath her notice.
I headed straight to my room to unpack, already counting the days until I could return to LA.
By dinner time, Dad had come home too.
With Christmas approaching, everyone seemed determined to maintain the facade of a happy family, so our previous blow-ups went strategically unmentioned.
"Mom, are you really going to play cards with Aunt Jessica tomorrow?" Rosalia asked, twirling her fork in her spaghetti without actually eating any.
Mom nodded. "That's the plan."
"Does that mean I'll get to see Jax?" Her voice couldn't hide her excitement, and something possessive twisted in my stomach.
"You won't," I answered before Mom could, keeping my voice deliberately casual.
Rosalia stared at me like I'd suddenly started speaking.
I continued buttering my dinner roll, not looking up. "He's still in LA. His break starts next week."
Rosalia's fork clattered against her plate. "And how exactly would you know his schedule?"
I smiled slightly. "We text."
The smile evaporated from Rosalia's face. "So you two are, what, friends now or something?"
"Something like that."
My deliberately vague response made Rosalia's breathing audibly quicken. She dropped her fork with a loud clang.
"Liana, seriously? You need to take a good look in the mirror. Why would someone like Jax Xavier ever give you the time of day?"
Perfect. She'd taken the bait, and the shark was now thrashing in the net.
I didn't respond, just looked toward our parents, who sat there with identical stunned expressions.
They clearly couldn't reconcile this vicious outburst with their mental image of their sweet, bubbly daughter who could do no wrong.
Rosalia was too angry to read the room. "I'm calling Jax right now. Let's see what he says about your little text buddy fantasy."
"Let me save you the trouble."
I calmly pulled out my phone and dialed Jax's number, my heart racing with a mixture of nervousness and vindictive excitement.
I placed the phone on the table and put it on speaker, the dial tone filling our suddenly silent dining room.
After a few rings, his deep voice came through, sending a familiar warmth through my chest even as I maintained my poker face.
"Hey gorgeous, missing me already?"
Rosalia's face drained of all color so rapidly I thought she might faint.
"A little," I replied with forced casualness, keeping my eyes fixed on Rosalia's crumbling expression. "My sister was just asking about us, thought you might want to say hi."
"What, Rosie? Tell her I said hey. Also, are we still on for New Year's? My parents want to know if you're flying back early for their party or if I should pick you up from the airport." His voice was relaxed, intimate—the voice of someone who'd fallen asleep on FaceTime with me multiple nights a week.
I watched as Rosalia's lips trembled, her expression morphing from disbelief to devastation. I saw her struggling to breathe, her carefully constructed fantasy world imploding in real-time.
So this is what it feels like, I thought with a rush of dark satisfaction. To finally have something someone else desperately wants.
For the first time in my life, I was on the winning side of the equation.
Because I was quiet and reserved, my parents' attention had always been easily stolen by Rosalia's theatrics.
But this time, Mom and Dad heard Rosalia's true colors with their own ears, and even they couldn't spin this into my fault.
Their expressions changed from shock to disappointment as they stared at their perfect daughter like they were seeing her clearly for the first time.
Rosalia's eyes filled with tears as she looked between them, searching for her usual allies. "You always take her side now! Ever since her stupid test score!"
Hearing that pathetic attempt to reclaim victim status, I suddenly lost interest in the family drama. The sweet sound of my boyfriend's voice was infinitely more appealing than watching Rosalia's long-overdue reckoning.
So I grabbed my phone mid-conversation and retreated to my bedroom, leaving the fallout behind me.
"So," I said into the phone once my door was closed, flopping onto my childhood bed with a smile. "What are you really doing right now?"
The reason was simple: despite his cool, aloof public persona that had half of UCLA's female population swooning, he was surprisingly clingy as a boyfriend.
Daily good morning texts that arrived like clockwork, random lunch selfies with captions like "wish you were here," and FaceTime calls that lasted until one of us fell asleep. He'd text me about what he was eating, warn me about weather changes more accurately than my weather app, and remind me to bring an umbrella when rain was forecasted.
Our winter break started mid-December.
I booked an early morning flight home to Minneapolis. After a lingering hug and kiss with Jax at LAX drop-off (and his dramatic "I'll wither away without you" speech), I boarded my plane.
The moment we touched down, Mom called.
"Liana, I'm in the pickup zone. Silver Honda."
Over the entire semester, she'd called me exactly once a month—perfunctory five-minute conversations that felt like she was checking a box on her parental duty list.
Probably because with Rosalia taking a gap year to retake the SAT, Mom's attention was fully consumed by her favorite project.
I wheeled my carry-on through the Minneapolis airport exit and spotted Mom's car idling by the curb.
When she saw me, her eyes widened like she'd seen a ghost.
"You... what on earth happened to you?"
I'd dyed the ends of my hair purple just a week ago on a spontaneous trip to a salon with my roommate. Jax had called it "hot as hell," which was all the validation I needed.
With my hair down, the purple ends created this ombré effect that was definitely eye-catching against my winter-pale skin.
"Just trying something new," I said flatly.
She pressed her lips together, clearly holding back a lecture.
I knew she hated the purple hair—anything that drew attention to me seemed to make her uncomfortable—but since we'd barely spoken in months, she didn't feel entitled to criticize.
When Mom and I walked through the front door, Rosalia was sprawled across the living room couch eating chocolate-covered strawberries and scrolling through her phone.
Mom set down her car keys with a disapproving frown. "Honey, don't you have two SAT practice tests to finish before your tutor comes tomorrow?"
"Mom!" Rosalia whined, her voice slipping into that baby-talk register that made my teeth hurt. "It's just two practice tests. I can finish them in like an hour."
As she spoke, she glanced up and froze when she saw me, her eyes immediately zeroing in on my hair.
Then she quickly looked away, as if my existence was beneath her notice.
I headed straight to my room to unpack, already counting the days until I could return to LA.
By dinner time, Dad had come home too.
With Christmas approaching, everyone seemed determined to maintain the facade of a happy family, so our previous blow-ups went strategically unmentioned.
"Mom, are you really going to play cards with Aunt Jessica tomorrow?" Rosalia asked, twirling her fork in her spaghetti without actually eating any.
Mom nodded. "That's the plan."
"Does that mean I'll get to see Jax?" Her voice couldn't hide her excitement, and something possessive twisted in my stomach.
"You won't," I answered before Mom could, keeping my voice deliberately casual.
Rosalia stared at me like I'd suddenly started speaking.
I continued buttering my dinner roll, not looking up. "He's still in LA. His break starts next week."
Rosalia's fork clattered against her plate. "And how exactly would you know his schedule?"
I smiled slightly. "We text."
The smile evaporated from Rosalia's face. "So you two are, what, friends now or something?"
"Something like that."
My deliberately vague response made Rosalia's breathing audibly quicken. She dropped her fork with a loud clang.
"Liana, seriously? You need to take a good look in the mirror. Why would someone like Jax Xavier ever give you the time of day?"
Perfect. She'd taken the bait, and the shark was now thrashing in the net.
I didn't respond, just looked toward our parents, who sat there with identical stunned expressions.
They clearly couldn't reconcile this vicious outburst with their mental image of their sweet, bubbly daughter who could do no wrong.
Rosalia was too angry to read the room. "I'm calling Jax right now. Let's see what he says about your little text buddy fantasy."
"Let me save you the trouble."
I calmly pulled out my phone and dialed Jax's number, my heart racing with a mixture of nervousness and vindictive excitement.
I placed the phone on the table and put it on speaker, the dial tone filling our suddenly silent dining room.
After a few rings, his deep voice came through, sending a familiar warmth through my chest even as I maintained my poker face.
"Hey gorgeous, missing me already?"
Rosalia's face drained of all color so rapidly I thought she might faint.
"A little," I replied with forced casualness, keeping my eyes fixed on Rosalia's crumbling expression. "My sister was just asking about us, thought you might want to say hi."
"What, Rosie? Tell her I said hey. Also, are we still on for New Year's? My parents want to know if you're flying back early for their party or if I should pick you up from the airport." His voice was relaxed, intimate—the voice of someone who'd fallen asleep on FaceTime with me multiple nights a week.
I watched as Rosalia's lips trembled, her expression morphing from disbelief to devastation. I saw her struggling to breathe, her carefully constructed fantasy world imploding in real-time.
So this is what it feels like, I thought with a rush of dark satisfaction. To finally have something someone else desperately wants.
For the first time in my life, I was on the winning side of the equation.
Because I was quiet and reserved, my parents' attention had always been easily stolen by Rosalia's theatrics.
But this time, Mom and Dad heard Rosalia's true colors with their own ears, and even they couldn't spin this into my fault.
Their expressions changed from shock to disappointment as they stared at their perfect daughter like they were seeing her clearly for the first time.
Rosalia's eyes filled with tears as she looked between them, searching for her usual allies. "You always take her side now! Ever since her stupid test score!"
Hearing that pathetic attempt to reclaim victim status, I suddenly lost interest in the family drama. The sweet sound of my boyfriend's voice was infinitely more appealing than watching Rosalia's long-overdue reckoning.
So I grabbed my phone mid-conversation and retreated to my bedroom, leaving the fallout behind me.
"So," I said into the phone once my door was closed, flopping onto my childhood bed with a smile. "What are you really doing right now?"
End of Done Hiding as Your Backup Plaything I'm Shining Golden as a Queen Chapter 48. Continue reading Chapter 49 or return to Done Hiding as Your Backup Plaything I'm Shining Golden as a Queen book page.