Chapter 54
Chapter Fifty-Four
RILEY
“Everyone knows Nathan Campbell as the hockey golden-boy. He had a rollercoaster of a journey. Once, he was at the height of his career, even dubbed ‘The new Chance McLanely’.
Then his car got totaled during that winter storm incident. And now, he’s built himself back up to the point that he just—I mean this is fresh off the press here—he just got signed with the Lucky Strikers team which is Chance McLanely’s comeback team.”
In the video, Layla presses a button and a recording of cheers and applause breaks out.
“But what most don’t know is that Nathan Campbell is not just the victim of an accident, but the victim of a sadistic, obsessed fangirl who’s been stalking him for years. Let’s get into it.”
Laughter breaks out.
I pause the video and look over at Nat.
“You think this is funny?” I scowl.
“It’s a total reach,” Nat says, shaking his head.
I try to un-pause the video.
Nat reaches over and gently pushes the phone down. “Riles, stop.”
“If you don’t want to hear it, I’ll put in my headphones.”
“Layla is being petty. Don’t give her the attention she’s looking for.”
“Even if I don’t listen, everyone else will. You and Chance McLanely are stirring the pot now that you’re on the same team. The entire sports world is watching you.”
“Trends come and go. Tomorrow, the ‘sports world’ will have something else to discuss and no one will be paying attention to Layla’s podcast.”
I scowl at the screen.
‘A sadistic, obsessed fangirl’.
It’s exactly what I feared Nat would call me if he found out I’ve been into him since I was twelve.
How does Layla know about my old crush?
An even more disturbing thought emerges.
What if Layla somehow got her hands on that poem journal?
No.
There’s no way.
That poem journal is in my childhood home, tossed in the attic, locked away in a box where it will never see the light of day.
But the anxiety won’t leave me alone.
I text Chris.
Riley: Has anyone tried to contact you or asked any weird questions about me and Nat?
Chris: Yeah, actually. Nat’s ex-girlfriend reached out to me. Apparently, he blocked her on everything.
Riley: Did you talk to her?
Chris: Nope. I’ve been down this rabbit hole before. I was there with Nat when he got drafted to the league, remember? I know how shifty reporters can be.
Riley: Did you tell her anything about me and Nat. Especially from before?
I hope my brother understands what ‘before’ means. I don’t want to spell out my crush on Nat in case my phone gets hacked. Now that Layla has blasted us on the internet, I feel especially paranoid.
Chris: Nope. Didn’t tell her a thing.
Relief surges through me.
So the leak didn’t come from my brother.
Which means that Layla is making up an elaborate story just to paint me in an awful light. And sure, some parts of that story hit the bulls-eye, but that’s not the point. She hasn’t verified anything and she’s accusing me of being a stalker. It’s infuriating.
“Hey, shrimp,” Nat says softly, “you look like you’re about to slice someone with a katana. Are you still upset about the podcast?”
“When was the last time you spoke to Layla?” I ask.
Nat shrugs. “Not since she left town. She tried to call me the night Chance and April got engaged, but I blocked her. Then she tried to message me and talk bad about you. That’s when I blocked her on everything.”
I sit straight up. “She texted something about me?”
Nat shrugs. “I saw it a couple days later. It was nonsense. I barely even remember what she said. I just glanced at it and blocked her right away. It’s not like she and I need to be having conversations.”
“Can I have your phone?”
Nat freely hands it over. “I changed the password to your birthday.”
His words stop the pounding, rock-style guitar solo thrumming through my head.
“When did you change your password?”
He glances up, thinking. “The night of April and Chance’s engagement, when you told me how those guys at your AMT school used to talk about women.”
“Are you serious?”
Nat nods to the phone, daring me to unlock it. “I want you to have access to every part of me.”
My heart beats double-time.
Holding my breath, I tap in my birthday and the phone unlocks with a click.
Nat’s wallpaper is of an empty ice rink under arena lights.
“It was a DM,” Nat says.
I hesitate with my thumb hovering over the social media app. Some part of me feels like a controlling girlfriend trying to violate her partner’s privacy.
“It’s okay,” Nat says with an amused smile. “You can go in. I have nothing to hide.”
I tap on the app.
“There are a lot of notifications in here,” I murmur.
“Yeah, I don’t usually log on or post anything. It gets overwhelming, so I let Renea sort through the brand inquiries versus the…” Nat clears his throat, “the more personal inquiries.”
I scrunch my nose at a woman who’s sent a very indecent picture of herself to Nat. How many of these types of ‘inquiries’ does he get?
Don’t get side-tracked. You have more important things to worry about.
I scroll down until I get to Layla’s account.
After unblocking her, I read her latest messages.
‘Nat, that female mechanic is insane. She totally set me up and got me arrested for no reason.’
Nat didn’t respond to that message.
A few days later, Layla sent another message.
‘I’m not going to take this lying down. You better warn her. I’ll show everyone who that crazy woman really is.’
I scoff.
Layla has impeccable timing. Why did she choose today of all days to post her exposé? I’ve been trying to tell Nat the truth all afternoon, but—just like our first kiss—it keeps getting interrupted.
I feel Nat casting worried glances at me. “Riles, don’t worry. This happens a lot when you’re in the spotlight. People make up all sorts of things about you and hate you for no reason. It’s going to die down eventually.”
I sit straight up. It’s now or never. I have to tell Nat about my crush before he finds out from Layla of all people.
At that moment, Nat’s phone starts ringing in my hand.
I bite back a groan.
“It’s Max,” Nat declares as the team manager’s name splays on his car dashboard. “I wonder what he wants?”
I slide the green icon to answer the call and the phone immediately syncs to Nat’s car speakers.
Max’s voice booms over the line. “Campbell, congratulations again. I wanted to speak to you personally about something. Do you have time today?”
“Today?” Nat glances at me with an inquiring look.
‘No, stay with me. Listen to me while I tell you that I’ve been obsessed with you since I was a child and that it never went away and now we’re dating and you might think it’s weird, but I don’t care because you’re stuck with me’.
But I can’t have a deep conversation with Nat when he’s distracted. And I know he really wants to hear what Max has to say.
I nod my approval, not that he needs it.
Nat smiles. “Yeah, I can make time today. At the stadium?”
While Nat and the team manager work out the details, I open my phone and slide down to the comments of Layla’s video.
Big mistake.
The comment section is pure vitriol.
She sounds like a psycho-stalker.
How do we know Nathan Campbell wasn’t fooling around with her before she was legal?
I wonder if she paid to have him join the Lucky Strikers after his accident.
I grind my teeth and put the phone facedown.
“Thanks, Max. See you then.” Nat taps the dashboard and stops the truck in front of my apartment. “It sounds like my meeting with Max will be quick. I’ll come back as soon as I can, okay?”
Nat leans over the center console and gives me a kiss.
I kiss him back. “Okay.”
The moment Nat drives out of the lot, I charge up the stairs, lock my apartment door behind me and play the rest of Layla’s video.
“Nathan Campbell was best friends and next-door neighbor to this guy.” Layla shows a blown-up picture of Chris on the screen.
“They were inseparable, going swimming together, skateboarding and riding bikes together. And most importantly, playing hockey together. But you’ll notice something strange.
In the background of all these pictures is one person. ”
Layla zooms in on a picture that Chris posted to social media for Nat’s birthday three years ago. I’m in the background, with hair that looks like it belongs to a scarecrow, braces and painful, red acne on my face.
I also just so happen to be looking at Nat with the most unhinged, creepy expression.
To match the less-than-flattering image, Layla plays a daunting, horror-movie-like sound.
I scoff at the dramatic music. Anyone would look like a creep with that kind of soundtrack. And did she have to choose the worst picture of me? I’m not even sure I was looking at Nat. Maybe I was just about to sneeze. I don’t even remember.
“I can hear you now. ‘But it’s just a picture of the stalker and Nathan Campbell when they were kids, Layla. Maybe it’s not that serious, Layla.
’ I have proof that she never gave up her feelings for Nathan Campbell.
Right after the accident, Nathan Campbell was in the hospital and they had to hire more security because girls were sneaking in trying to see him.
But guess who was poking around in the same ward? ”
Another video explodes on the screen. It’s someone doing a viral dance in front of their family’s hospital room door.
I gasp in shock.
Layla speaks into her podcast mike, “I slowed the video down and zoomed in. That’s her. That’s the stalker. She was snooping around Nathan Campbell while he was fighting for his life and security had to be called.”
My fingers form into fists.
I was too easy on Layla. When she shoved me in front of The Tipsy Tuna that day, I should have shoved her back and then played the victim. What was the use of showing such restraint? She’s clearly never gotten a fist to the face before.
I slam the phone down, but I haven’t paused the video so Layla’s high-pitched voice continues to claw at me.
“She’s hovering around him right now, thinking that she’s won because all her years of stalking and obsession paid off.
But I know the truth. She’s an unhinged fangirl who’s not even good at her job.
She ‘allegedly’ almost delayed an entire flight because she made a mistake fixing the plane.
” Layla sighs. “As someone who once cared about Nat deeply, I just have one question. Nathan Campbell, do you really know the woman you’re dating? ”