Chapter 30 #2
Gideon patted my arm. “Don’t let them get to you.” He sounded far away beneath the rush in my ears.
As I scanned the faces around us, I caught the unmistakable glow of screens angled in my direction. People weren’t even trying to be subtle anymore. A woman two rows behind us spoke while filming, her camera aimed straight at me.
Coming here was a mistake.
The buzzer announced the end of intermission, and I’d never been so grateful for the game to resume. But even as I tried to focus on Mason’s powerful form cutting across the rink, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my carefully constructed life was teetering, one shove away from public disaster.
The second period ended with Miami up by one goal.
Under normal circumstances, I would have been on my feet cheering with the rest of the arena.
Instead, I stayed planted, nails digging crescents into my palms as I counted down the minutes until I could escape.
The teens from earlier had vanished, but the damage was done.
More people kept looking over during each break in play, and more whispers floated my way.
Gideon kept shooting me concerned glances, clearly reading my distress as fallout from the earlier harassment. If only that were all I had to worry about.
The buzzer for intermission sounded like a death knell, and I braced myself for round two.
“I need to use the restroom,” I told Gideon, desperate to disappear before the girls came back.
I’d barely made it two steps into the aisle when I spotted them.
Three older teens hovered at the entrance to our section, a calculated gleam in their eyes as they locked onto me like they’d been waiting.
Their Miami Fusion jerseys were cinched and tied to show off their flat stomachs despite the chill in the arena.
Unlike the last group, these girls had a sharper, cooler confidence.
“Excuse me,” the tallest one called, waving as if we were old friends. “You’re Mason Callahan’s girlfriend, right? The designer? Could we get a picture with you for our Insta?”
I stopped short, my exit blocked. People turned to watch, curious about who was being asked for selfies. The exposed-on-display feeling crawled over my skin, making me too aware of every glance.
“I’m really not comfortable with—”
“Please?” her friend cut in, her heavily mascaraed eyes wide with practiced innocence. “We’re, like, Mason’s biggest fans. He’s so amazing.”
If they were such big fans, why were they wearing other players’ jerseys? No. This wasn’t fangirl energy. This was an ambush.
Gideon stepped in at my side, his presence a shield. “Ladies, Lila was just heading to the restroom.”
The blonde’s gaze sharpened, a gasp escaping her glossed lips.
“Oh my God.”
Her head snapped up, and she stared at me with sudden, hungry focus. “Oh. My. God.”
Something in that look turned my blood cold.
“What?” her friend asked, leaning over to see her phone.
“It’s her,” the girl whispered, an excited tremor in her voice. She thrust her phone out, finger jabbing at the screen. “Look. It’s totally her. Delilah Mae Prescott.”
I stood there, caught, as they huddled around the screen. One clapped a hand over her mouth while the other started typing furiously on her phone.
Please don’t let this be happening again.
But as they studied the video, then my face, their expressions morphing into a cruel sort of delight, I knew it was too late. The Epic Fail girl had been unmasked, and I was about to relive my worst nightmare all over again.
“Holy shit,” the tallest girl breathed, looking back at me with malicious glee. “You’re the Epic Fail girl.”
The words landed like a cruel blow. My carefully constructed world tilted, and nothing under me felt solid anymore. Five years of distance from that shameful moment collapsed in an instant.
“Let me see,” a boy from the row behind called, reaching for one of their phones.
The blonde girl angled her screen toward him. “It’s her, right? The girl with the dog and the banana underwear!”
Laughter burst out and spread fast, dragging more attention with it. More phones appeared. People pulled up the video, comparing it to my face like they were matching a suspect to a mugshot.
“It is her!” someone else confirmed. “She’s blonde now, but it’s her.”
My body locked. Beside me, Gideon’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“What are they talking about?” he whispered, his hand protective on my elbow.
I couldn’t answer. Panic flooded me as the truth took shape around us.
Screens lit up throughout our section, replaying the same awful clip. The tinny sound of my own singing voice spilled from a phone somewhere, bright and horrible, a cruel soundtrack to my present humiliation.
“Can we get a selfie?” the tall girl asked, already holding her phone up. Her smile glittered with glee. “It’s not every day you meet the Fail girl.”
I tried to refuse. No words came. My face burned, and my thoughts scattered.
“Oh, come on,” she pressed, stepping closer. “Just one. For our TikTok. Everyone’s going to lose it when they find out Mason Callahan is dating the banana spanx girl.”
Mason’s name cut through the noise like a blade. This was not just my humiliation anymore. This was about to become his, too. The professional athlete dating the internet’s laughingstock.
Gideon looked between me and the girls. “Lila, what are they talking about?”
Someone shoved a phone toward my face. “Do the face you made when you slipped. You know, with your eyes all buggy and your mouth open?”
I jerked back, bile rising fast.
The crowd thickened around us, people craning their necks, pushing into the aisle to see what the fuss was about. Gideon shifted beside me, trying to hold the line, but the girls were feeding off the attention now. They had found their prize, and they were not letting go.
“I’m going live,” the tall girl announced, holding her phone up to capture both herself and me in the frame. “What’s up, TikTok? You’ll never guess who I just ran into at the Fusion game. It’s the Epic Fail girl in the flesh. And guess what? She’s dating Mason Callahan!”
I heard someone scoff behind me. “Why would Mason Callahan date the Epic Fail Girl? He could do so much better.”
The girl live-streaming swung the phone toward me, narrating to her audience. “She’s supposed to be his sex dungeon designer or whatever, but look who she really is. Hey, Fail Girl. Is it true you wear your banana spanx when you get freaky with Mason in his sex dungeon?”
Panic kept climbing, faster than I could get control back. Curious onlookers pressed closer, their phones held high like torches in some twisted witch hunt.
I shook my head, fighting the tears threatening to spill. “No,” I managed to choke out. “Please. Just leave me alone.”
Gideon tried to intervene. “Hey, back off!” he shouted, stepping in front of me. “Can’t you see she doesn’t want this?”
The tall girl kept narrating, her smile sharp. “So pathetic. And now she’s trying not to cry. Aww. Is the Epic Fail girl about to have another epic fail?”
My heart slammed against my ribs like it wanted out. My vision tunneled until there was only one instinct.
Run.
I surged forward, shoving through the crowd, pushing past Gideon and the wall of bodies. Someone yelped as I clipped their shoulder. A hand grabbed for my sleeve and missed. I wove through the crowd, desperate to put as much distance between myself and their cruel taunts as possible.
“Lila! Wait!” Gideon’s voice chased me, frantic and sharp.
I couldn’t. Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled up the stairs, away from the phones, away from the laughter, away from the version of me they had resurrected like a punchline.
The concourse hit me like a wall, and I kept going anyway, lungs on fire, legs moving on pure panic. The noise followed. It was everywhere. The echo of that video. The chant of my own name. The cruel delight.
Behind a pillar and a closed concession stand, I found a narrow stretch of concrete, dimmer than the rest, just far enough from the current of foot traffic. My back hit the wall and my legs quit.
I slid down until I was on the floor, arms locked around my middle.
My breathing came ragged and painful, snagging like it had to fight its way out. My whole body shook, silent at first, then not so silent as the sobs finally broke loose and I couldn’t stop them.
“Oh God,” I whispered, hugging my knees to my chest. “This can’t be happening.”
My mind raced with thoughts of the video, the laughter, the way their eyes had lit up as if they’d found a prize.
How could I ever face anyone again, knowing the worst moment of my life was back in circulation, repackaged for strangers to feast on?
I buried my face in my hands, desperate for a way out of this nightmare.
Why? Why can’t I escape this? Why won’t they just let me forget?
Footsteps pounded toward me. I flinched, looking up as Gideon skidded to a stop, hands on his knees, breathing hard.
“Okay, I may need to hit the gym,” he panted, sucking in air. “But you can’t just leave me to face the horde alone. We’re a team, remember?”
“Just go away, Gideon.” The words came out jagged. “I want to be alone.”
“No can do.” He crouched beside me and placed a careful hand on my shoulder. “Want to tell me what that was all about? Because I’m more lost than a straight guy at a Cher concert.”
Despite everything, a small, broken laugh slipped out. Leave it to Gideon to inject humor into even the darkest moments.
I wiped angrily at my tears. “The most humiliating, soul-crushing moment of my life was caught on video. It ruined my life before, and now it’s back.”
He didn’t press for the details, but I knew he’d filed it away for later.
“Oh, honey.” He pulled me into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”
Something in me finally gave. Five years of holding myself together cracked, and the sobs came hard and ugly. Gideon held on, rocking slightly, murmuring soothing nonsense into my hair.
“It’s over,” I choked out. “Everything I built, my career, my reputation, it’s all going to be overshadowed again.”
“Whoa, slow down, Chicken Little.” He squeezed my shoulder. “The sky isn’t falling. We’ll figure this out.”
“You don’t understand.” I forced the words through. “I spent years trying to bury that stupid video. Years building a professional image that has nothing to do with banana spanx or public shame. And now it’s all coming back, this time worse, because now I’ve dragged Mason into it too.”
“Lila.” Gideon leaned back until he could see my face. “Look at me.”
I did, because he wouldn’t let me hide.
“Mason is crazy about you. He doesn’t give a damn about what the internet thinks.”
“I won’t drag Mason into my mess. You saw what happened back there. That was only the start.” I pressed my palm to the wall, steadying myself against the cold concrete. “Being publicly embarrassed like that again would break me. I need to disappear. It’s the only way to protect him, and myself.”
I wiped my face, knowing what I had to do.
“Lila, I get it. You’re terrified. But running away isn’t a solution. It’s a reflex.”
He would never understand. “I have to go.” I stood up. “Tell Mason I’m sorry.”
Hope sputtered out as I looked at him, despair closing in until I could barely think. Running was the only safe option, my escape route paved by years of practice. The thought of losing Mason, the man who had captured my heart without even trying, hit with a painful finality.
But being with him meant living under a spotlight that would never stop hunting for something to mock.
In that moment, the choice was brutally clear. I had to let go.
And deep down, I knew the cruelest truth of all. The Epic Fail girl wasn’t just a headline. She was a part of me, a ghost that would follow no matter how far I ran, no matter how desperately I tried to leave her behind.