I make an executive decision. Have someone look at it first. I press send. I’ve found out that one of our morning-shift employees at Superheroes & Scones is a little aloof, like me, so it may just be operator error.
I notice that I’ve missed other texts, some I’ve purposefully kept unopened all week. But I click into them now.
Is there anything I can do to change this? – Ryke
This fucking sucks. – Ryke.
I’ve taken the immature silent treatment route this past week, but I haven’t grown the courage to tell him that I’ve been aroused by his presence and that I feel gross by it.
While the same things happened with Connor, it only occurred twice and it stopped there. Every time I see Ryke, I just feel weird.
Lo told his brother to give me some space, so he hasn’t bombarded me in person, like he usually would. He’s just been texting me, being pushy from a distance. Soon, I think. I’ll face him. But not this soon.
Lo’s phone chirps like a bird.
“What’s that?” Lo asks, his rolling stopping against the wall. I ditch my phone for his, one with internet and app capabilities.
“Uhh…” My Twitter notifications on your phone. “…a bird?” I’m a horrible liar. Well, that’s not true. I did lie to my entire family for three years. I suppose—I am horrible at lying to Lo.
“Lil,” he says in warning.
“It’s not Tumblr!” I greedily check out Twitter and realize that someone has finally discovered my official account. Whoa. My third one about Raisy has been retweeted over a thousand times. “Raisy is alive!” I cheer, bouncing up to my feet.
Lo gives me a weird look and then snatches the phone out of my hand.
I don’t care. I’m twirling. I did it. We succeeded! “No more three-way rumors,” I sing-song. “Everyone loves Raisy.”
“I’m deleting your account,” Lo says, his voice hollow.
I stop mid-twirl. I realize that I sang out loud and actually spun in a circle. My skin roasts. “What? Lo, it’s working—”
“Did you read the replies?” His cheekbones are sharpening.
“No…I…celebrated too soon?”
He nods tensely and hands me the phone back. “Delete it, Lil.”
I scroll through some of the replies, and my excitement is shot down like a pigeon in the sky. And yes, I deserve to be a pigeon and not a majestic eagle or a sprightly blue jay.
@littlehex99: @lilycallowayX23 you’re for sure banging Ryke and trying to cover it up. I bet Daisy is still with that model guy, Julian. Isn’t she??
No.
@Sherlock2Baby: @lilycallowayX23 I called this from the start!! You LOVE Ryke!!! You can’t fool us, Lily!!
I’m not trying to.
@lotusflowwers: @lilycallowayX23 you’re such a fucking slut. I hope you die from banging two guys at once.
I cringe. That’s not nice.
“There has to be some good stuff here,” I tell Lo.
“Lil, please, just delete the account. It’s not worth the stress.”
I don’t want to give up yet. “Let me take a picture of you,” I say. “I’ll tweet it and ignore all the other comments.”
He hesitates for a couple seconds. “Only if you don’t respond to the negative tweets.”
I nod vigorously and my chest expands with more excitement.
He holds the paint roller, and instead of giving me a signature bitter half-smile, Lo produces a heartfelt, really attractive smile with dimples attached. I have to cross my ankles to keep from throbbing so much down below. I snap a quick pic and then upload it without a caption.
Words can be twisted worse than pictures. Though the photoshopped pictures of me on the yacht between two hot dogs was pretty bad.
Lo returns to painting, and I sit back down with his phone, logging into Celebrity Crush, just a quick perusal of all the headlines.
Ryke Meadows’ Epic Fight in Mexico Caught on Tape!
The videos went viral. Lo says that whenever Ryke goes out now, people jeer at him—thinking he’s easily provoked. Everyone wants to see a Fight Part Two. For him to feed their entertainment.
“Is Ryke okay?” I ask Lo. I know how overwhelming the paparazzi and general public can be. But if anyone can take it, it’s definitely Ryke Meadows.
Lo briefly glances at me. “Why don’t you ask him?” His tone is only a little edged.
Worry infiltrates my defenses. “I’m not attracted to your—”
“I know you aren’t, Lil. You don’t have to keep reminding me.”