“In case you wanted to hide.”
Glancing down at my outfit, my tank top is cropped and tight, showcasing my shape, including a few inches of my bare stomach. I have a flannel wrapped around my waist. My hair is thrown in a curly mess on top of my head, my jeans are baggy, my sneakers are dirty, and overall, I look very much like myself.
And that realization causes me to snatch the jacket from my brother and cover up, regardless of the warm weather.
“Stay behind me,” Ryan reminds me as we turn the corner to our building.
The base of our steps is flooded with people, cameras in their hands, waiting for anything.
“Are you sure they’re not here for you or Maddison or something?”
Ryan looks over his shoulder with an apology. “No, Vee. They’re not here for us.”
My eyes dart to Zanders’ building, where his front steps are clear for the first time in weeks, everyone instead camping in front of the one I live in.
We slyly approach, trying not to draw too much attention.
“Just move quick,” my brother whispers. “Ready?”
Not even a little bit, but it doesn’t matter because they’re going to see us when we turn the corner in three, two, one…
“Ryan Shay!” the first one calls out.
“Is this your sister?” Flashes from cameras, shouts from the crowd, trying to gain our attention.
“Quite the work perk, huh?”
“Stevie, over here!”
Ryan covers me, allowing me to stand between him and the building as our doorman opens the main entrance to the lobby and guides us inside. My brother quickly steps to the side, blocking the cameras from me as I rush in.
“Keep your head down,” Ryan adds once we’re inside and headed to the elevator, but I stop in my tracks, right there in the middle of the all-white pristine lobby that’s always made me feel out of place compared to the other people who live here.
But I don’t care anymore where I should and shouldn’t fit in or what people have to say about the way I look or dress. I don’t care that strangers don’t like the few extra pounds I carry through life. This is me, and I’m tired of allowing others to dictate where I’m allowed to feel accepted.
I finally accept myself, so everyone else can just get on board.
“Vee, let’s go,” Ryan urges, motioning me towards the elevator he holds open.
Glancing over my shoulder to the crowd outside, I can hear their shouts through the walls. I slip out of my long trench coat with haste before dropping it to the ground and charging back to the door.
“Stevie!” my brother yells, but I continue towards the horde of reporters.
Adrenaline courses through my bloodstream as I throw open the door, the flashes from their cameras becoming blinding and their shouts deafening.
“Miss Shay!”
“Stevie, over here!”
“How long has your relationship been going on?”
“Does your airline know?”
“I’m not going to answer any questions,” I raise my voice over the crowd. “I have nothing to say other than this is me.” I open my arms out wide, unable to hide. “Take your pictures, post it where you want. I don’t care anymore.”
I take a deep breath as the realization of what I’m doing hits me. “I might not look how you want me to, but you know how many women look like me? The words you say online about my body affect not only me but them too. So, I’m done hiding because I’m afraid of what you have to say.” I hold my arms out to the side, putting myself on display. “This is me, and if you feel the need to comment on it, well, that says a whole lot more about you than it does about me.”
The reporters remain quiet, some jotting down on their little notepads and others snapping photos.
“And this is weird, you know? Caring this much about who I am. A picture isn’t going to tell you anything. I’m a sister, a daughter, and a friend. I’m a human with feelings and emotions, and treating me like I’m not, treating these athletes like they’re not, is sick. These guys you idolize are humans. They’re just trying to play a game they love, and some of you are more concerned about their personal lives away from the sport. Let them live. Let me live.”
Turning back to head inside, I take one step before changing my mind. “Oh, and if you’re going to keep following me around, I’ll let you know I volunteer down the street at Senior Dogs of Chicago, so if you’re wanting to stalk me there, I fully expect you to plan on taking some dogs on walks. We need all the volunteers we can get.”