Chapter 7 #2
My racing mind comes to a screeching halt. “Wait a minute—Mom called you?” A pang of jealousy hits my gut. Our mom never calls me.
“No, I called her,” my sister corrects me, barely skipping a beat. “Oh, and Kyle enjoyed the video, too. He thought you had some great techniques and could teach me a thing or two.”
My jaw drops. “Christy…you showed the video to your boyfriend ?!”
She laughs. “Well, of course I did, silly! I’m going to show it to everyone I know! It’s not every day your big sister goes viral for her design work.”
Design work… Design work!
Oh my gosh, did Katie’s video go viral?
As I’m putting the pieces of this puzzle together, my phone starts chiming again.
“Is that your cell?” Christy asks. “You must be getting so many messages.”
“I really am. Can I call you back? I have a ton of voicemails to listen to.”
“Of course!” Christy says brightly. “And congrats! I bet business is going to be booming for you after this!”
My gut clenches, and my first thought is, God, I hope not .
On the bright side, though, at least I’m not a porn star.
After I hang up with Christy, I open another new text from Dex:
We’re so happy for you. Congrats! Getting on a flight, but I wanted to ask where you got the paintings for your client’s bedroom. Sunny loves the starry sky theme for the nursery—thought I’d surprise her with them.
I breathe a giant sigh of relief, my heartrate slowing. A hint of a smile creeping onto my lips as I silently scold myself for being so paranoid.
Then I find Katie’s message and click on the link to her video, to see what all this fuss is about.
It has one million views. And counting.
How did this happen?
Baffled, I start reading through the comments:
@gymtanlaundryxxx
Hey sis, you didn’t tell me your interior designer was smokin’ hot. Can I get her number?
@katiekins88
no
@gymtanlaundryxxx
Dude, I’m forwarding your video to my entire frat
@katiekins88
you’re stupid
@robocox69
Wtf man, this is the girl of my wet dreams
@gymtanlaundryxxx
Told you
@chestercheetayayay
Yum. That’s a playboy bunny right there
@tonymackeroni
Fuckkkkkk. Sending this to everyone I know
@brianfinch0043
Think those tits are real? They’re so damn perfect
@katiekins88
would you buttholes get off my channel?
@robocox69
Oh, don’t worry. I’m definitely gonna get off
I bury my head in my hands. Ugh—gross.
But once I get past the frat boys, the comments start to change. There are other designers admiring my work. Women saying they’d love to hire me. Old friends from high school, who brag about knowing me, and remember that I was a talented artist, even back then.
As I’m scrolling down the page, it occurs to me that I haven’t watched the video yet, so I hit play.
There I am, bouncy and bubbly, with my beige bodycon dress that leaves little to the imagination.
I wore it to cheer myself up, because I was feeling so down about Charlie.
I thought if I put on a killer dress, blew out my hair for more volume, and went for a little extra makeup (including the sexy, smoky eye I usually only wear on dates) it would improve my mood.
I never in a million years imagined I would go viral.
The moment I’m done watching the video, my phone rings again.
It’s Katie. When I answer the call, she’s crying.
“Oh my gosh, Katie, are you okay?” I wonder if she’s upset because it’s her video, yet I’m the one getting all the attention. I wouldn’t blame her. It would be like middle school birthday parties all over again, where the guys hovered around me, instead of the girl blowing out the candles.
“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, Jenna,” she says in between sobs. “Lola…Piper…tweeted…the link…to…my…video!”
Then she screams.
“Wait, are you kidding?” I ask, although I have a distinct feeling she’s not.
Katie sniffles. “No, it’s true! Lola said, and I quote, ‘Love the Nightfall theme, Katie and Jenna! Xoxo.’ Can you believe it? This is the best day of my entire life!”
Oh. My. God.
The rest of the week is chaos. My phone’s ringing off the hook, I’m getting text messages from guys I haven’t seen or spoken to in years, wanting to “meet up for coffee.” I have dozens and dozens of requests from potential clients who want to book me.
The designer of the bodycon dress I wore wants me to model for them at New York Fashion Week.
And BuzzFeed calls me to get quotes for an article they’re writing: “Bombshell Interior Designer is More Than Just Her Looks.”
I should be happy. I’m being applauded for my talent for once (although it never would have happened if Katie’s younger brother hadn’t forwarded the video to every horny nineteen-year-old guy he knew).
But instead, I feel more confused than ever.
I have enough interest in my business to book myself through the end of the year and beyond, but the thought makes my stomach churn.
As a designer, I’m bound by my clients’ preferences. I can be creative, but only within the confines of what they want. That’s why painting feels so freeing to me. I guess it’s no wonder I crave that freedom so much, since my dad took it away from me when I was little.
Thank goodness I have painting class today.
I’m sure a few hours with a brush in my hand will help take my mind off this madness.
While I do have all the art supplies I need at home now, I haven’t started painting there yet, because I’ve been so distracted by my pinging phone—and thoughts of Charlie Sutton.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s the one person I haven’t heard from this week.
“Hey, superstar!” Vanessa says with a beaming smile when she walks into class fifteen minutes late, after a busy day at work. We’ve talked and texted plenty since I blew up the Internet on Wednesday, but the last time I saw her was nearly a week ago, at Tati Marie’s party.
I chuckle but roll my eyes. “I still can’t believe this is happening.”
“You know what?” Vanessa says as she pulls back her long braids and twists them into a bun. “I was so distracted by your sudden celebrity that I forgot to ask how your coffee date went last weekend.”
I sigh—heavily.
Vanessa cringes. “That bad, huh?”
“Not bad at all.” I shake my head. “It was amazing, actually. ”
“So, why the sad face?”
“Because…I freaked out.” I put down my paintbrush and turn toward her. “Charlie’s the type of guy I could see myself in a serious relationship with. But, that’s not what I’m looking for.” When Vanessa gives me a disbelieving look, I add, “Right now,” to appease her.
“Even if that were true, I think you’re getting ahead of yourself, Jenna. I mean, you just met this man, and you’ve only been on one date. Is it possible you’re projecting?”
I laugh as I pick up my paintbrush again. “Spoken like a true therapist.” Vanessa has a master’s in social work, and provided therapy at a counseling center in New York before she took on her role at the refugee resettlement agency.
Vanessa chuckles. “It’s hard to turn off, sometimes. All I’m saying is, maybe you’ve built this guy up in your head, without getting to really know him first. You said he’s hot, right?”
If I hadn’t already finished my self-portrait, I’d need a lot of pink for my cheeks right now. “He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.”
She nods. “Well, that explains it. You’re blinded by his looks. You see this guy who’s perfect on the outside, and you assume he must be perfect on the inside, too.”
I perk up and have to fight off a giddy grin. “So you think I should go out with him again? Get to know him better?”
Maybe my friend is right. If Charlie isn’t as perfect as I imagine, I might be able to keep things casual with him after all.
Vanessa shrugs. “Couldn’t hurt, could it?”