Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 152064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
I wanted this, even though I knew this would probably happen. But what if it continues indefinitely? What if I fail an assignment? What if I lose my place on the dean’s list? I fight the rising wave of panic.
I manage to keep it together, but when class is over, I quickly pack up my bag and duck out of the lecture theater. I pull my hood up and keep my head down. Reporters have stopped trolling me on campus and at my apartment. Flip confronted them outside of my apartment, and later gave a very emotional, heartfelt interview. Both went viral.
It’s been more than a week, so I figured it would be safe to check my socials today. I was very wrong. The masses are divided. Half think I should be left alone, the other half still believe they’re entitled to a piece of Flip. We made our beds, now we should lie in them.
My phone rings, scaring the crap out of me. I’m jumpy as shit these days. And my appetite is garbage. My mom calls daily to check in. She’s caught in the middle, navigating the impact of this on my sister and brother while trying to be supportive. It’s a hard line to toe. I don’t know how to be just her daughter and she doesn’t know how to be just my mom. We’re learning under pressure, and it’s tricky.
It’s my sister calling, which isn’t typical. Normally she texts.
“Hey, Fenna. What’s up?” I scroll through my calendar to make sure I haven’t missed something important.
She hiccups.
“Fen? Are you okay? What happened?”
She sniffles. “Dad came over. I thought he was staying for dinner because Mom made a big chicken pot pie. But I don’t like chicken pot pie.”
“It’s too many textures and flavors at the same time,” I finish for her. If Dad came by, it means the team is back in Toronto.
“But Dad didn’t stay. I was practicing cello when he arrived and I had to finish the piece, so I didn’t even get to see him.”
“Was he dropping something off?” Sometimes Fenna gets hung up on the details.
“I don’t know. They were fighting, though.”
“What were they fighting about?”
She’s silent for a moment.
“Fen? What were they arguing about?”
“You and your boyfriend. I didn’t mean to listen, but they were being loud. People are saying mean things about you, and I don’t want them to be true.”
“Are people saying mean things to you about me?” I ask.
“You can’t tell Mom, Tallulah. Sometimes she’s sad and she cries, and I don’t want to make her more sad.” She huffs. “And I know that Dad always worked, and wasn’t here all the time, but I still miss him. Are you moving home when you’re finished university?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“If you don’t, it will just be me and Mom.”
“Fen—”
“Will you move in with your boyfriend?”
I’m trying to follow her train of thought, but sometimes it’s tough to figure her out. “We haven’t been dating that long.”
“But you have a whole scrapbook of articles with him in them.”
I frown. That scrapbook is hidden in the back of my closet. “How would you know that, Fen?”
“Um… Uh, I was…I was looking for something, and uh…uh…I found the scrapbook. I have to go. I need to get ready for cello. Please don’t tell Mom that I told you they were fighting about you.”
She hangs up.
“Well, that’s great.” I tip my head back and scowl at the sky. “I can’t even rat her out for being a snoop.”
“What?” A girl passing by gives me a funny look.
“Oh my God, isn’t she the one who’s banging all the Terror players?” her friend whispers, loudly.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I throw my hands in the air. “I’m not banging the entire hockey team, you assholes! It’s AI-generated nonsense. Get a goddamn clue.” There are some new, fun pictures with my face photoshopped all over them.
They rush off, giggling.
It starts to rain.
I want to scream.
It’s pouring by the time I reach my apartment building. I didn’t check the weather this morning. Otherwise, I would have packed an umbrella. Once I’m in my apartment I can have a nice cry, followed by an eye treatment to manage the puffiness.
I keep my head down as I walk through the foyer, heading for the elevators. But the whispers still reach my ears.
“That’s Flip Madden’s girlfriend…”
“…Did you see the photos of her with Madden and Stiles…”
“…Weren’t those photoshopped…”
“…Or maybe not…”
“…Imagine being in the middle of that sandwich.”
I bypass the elevator and take the stairs, so I can start my cry sooner. I’m sobbing and wheezing by the time I get to my floor. I have to wait another two minutes because there’s a gaggle at the elevator, and I do not want to run into anyone right now.
The elevator finally comes, and the hall empties. I rush to my door, but I can’t find my key fob. It’s not in any of the usual pockets. I bang my forehead on my door a few times, but I don’t need a bruised face to round out this shitty day, so I dump out my bag and find the key fob stuck inside a textbook.