Chapter Three
“Would you stop pulling at that?” Gabby tutted, slapping my hand away from my bikini bottom. “You look cute.”
“I look like a half-naked highlighter,” I shot back, stepping out of her reach so I could adjust my swimsuit in peace.
“No one wearing a swimsuit of mine would even remotely resemble a highlighter. I have impeccable taste,” Nittha teased, setting the handbag containing Cricket down so she could spread her towel out on the chair next to Gabby’s.
Through some miracle she’d managed to sneak Cricket into the pool area, so we’d picked chairs at the quieter end, away from the other people our age, hoping that the lifeguard wouldn’t immediately send Cricket, and us, back inside the second she came out of the bag.
I spread my towel out on the other side of Gabby, then set my laptop on the little table between us before busting out a bottle of sunscreen.
My mother was extremely white—like blond-eyebrows-level pale—so that meant that sunburns were a real possibility for me, even with my melanin and frequent trips to Lake Michigan over the summer.
“Can someone help with my back?” I asked, rubbing sunscreen into my arms.
“I’ll help in exchange for details on the Lobby Hottie. What did you say to make him fall in love with you so quickly?” Nittha said, walking over and plopping down next to me.
“I swear, if someone even blinks at me, you see a crush.” I laughed, then handed the bottle to her as Gabby came to sit on my other side.
“Not true. You and Gabby simply refuse to acknowledge when people like you. That’s why you need me.” Nittha dumped a blob of cold lotion onto my back, then paused. “I did some speed internet sleuthing—”
“You mean stalking?” I interjected, a shiver running through me as I tried to adjust to my skin being two different temperatures.
“It isn’t really invasive if his videos are public.”
“Isn’t it, though?” I tilted my head, giving Nittha a skeptical eye. “It’s not like he created the videos with the intention that you would memorize every detail of his life.”
“Ugh. Save your internet ethics speech. We all know how you feel about social media, and we have all week for that soapbox.” Gabby rolled her eyes as she took the sunscreen from Nittha.
“I don’t think the entire world needs a central location to watch me, or anyone, make a fool of themselves on the internet.” I sighed. “Nor do I think it’s reasonable for everyone to have access to my every thought.”
“Who is sharing their every thought?” Nittha groaned, sounding put-upon. “And do you think you’d make a fool of yourself? Or, is that what your parents are worried about?”
“Both.” I shook my head like the distinction was irrelevant.
Much like their approach to my nonexistent dating life, my parents were inclined to overmonitor even a whiff of me on social media.
One video of me and my friends dancing together in the seventh grade was enough to convince me that I never wanted that level of my parents’ scrutiny again.
“It is okay to not be perfect, you know. That’s what curation and the delete button are for,” Gabby pressed.
Last year, the two of them came to visit me in Chicago, and I got an earful of my mom lecturing me about my “smudgy eyeliner” when Gabby posted something to one of her accounts.
In her defense, Mom didn’t want me to regret my appearance later on, but as Gabby pointed out, the comment came too late to be helpful.
The video was already up, and it hadn’t bothered me until Mom pointed it out.
Needless to say, these two were never letting that particular boundary overstep go.
“Nothing is ever really gone on the internet.” I sighed, returning to the present when Gabby handed the sunscreen back to me.
“You want to be a filmmaker, yes? How is anyone supposed to hire you if they can’t see you and your work?” Nittha asked. “Issa Rae got her start on YouTube.”
“I know, I know. I’ll put together a private channel with my portfolio when I make something worth sharing.
” This was the one place Nittha, Gabby, and I fundamentally disagreed.
They couldn’t understand why I refused to have my own social media, and I couldn’t find a way to make them understand that I didn’t have anything good enough to withstand my parents’ opinions. Someday I would. Maybe. But not now.
“Don’t put down your videos with Mini. They help and entertain people.
If you won’t be a collaborator, you should at least put your name in the captions when you post them.
” Nittha crossed her arms. For a second, we all sat staring at each other in the kind of stalemate that only friends can have.
Finally, coming to a decision to let it go for the moment, Nittha perked up.
“Whatever, we can fight about this later. Back to Lobby Hottie—”
“You know his name is Ethan.”
“Yeah, but nicknames for crushes are way more fun!”
“Plus, this place is packed with people who know him. We don’t need rumors starting.” Gabby grimaced.
“The only one spreading this crush rumor is Nittha.” I laughed.
“Right now. But pretty soon, everyone will see it,” Nittha teased.
“Because you told them to,” I said.
“No, because you are star-crossed. This is meant to be.” Nittha’s eyes were wide with earnestness.
If anyone ever invented a prize for the best hopeless romantic, she’d win.
Her social media basically doubled as a timeline of every girl she’d ever dated.
If they lasted more than two weeks, she was also dressing them in outfits to match Cricket.
“Anyway, I did a little internet sleuthing, because I thought I recognized him, and he is, like, mildly car proficient. His channel has thirty thousand followers. That’s not bad. ”
“Mildly car proficient. What does that even mean?” Gabby asked.
“He talks about cars and stuff,” Nittha said, waving a hand, as if the gesture would summon the details for her, then she frowned. “Whatever. You know I don’t drive. His channel has car parts in it, okay? And I didn’t have that much time to watch. I was trying to get Cricket dressed.”
I laughed at the thought of her trying to fit Cricket into a bathing suit. “Nittha, I love you so much, but what do you think I’m even going to do with that information?”
“Talk to him about cars. Obviously.” Nittha shrugged, then picked up her phone. “Smile!”
Gabby and Nittha both leaned in at the same time. I pretended to smile, only to stick my tongue out and make a silly face right as Nittha snapped the picture.
“Aw, we’re cute!” Nittha said, showing us the picture. “Are you okay if I post this?”
“Sure. It’s not like I have to see myself looking ridiculous again.
” I giggled. Unlike Nittha and Gabby, I had the benefit of anonymity.
No one cared what I looked like on vacation other than my mom, who only checked my friends’ social media when her curiosity outweighed her wish to pretend that I had privacy, which was all the time.
Fortunately, unless I was wearing or doing something truly egregious, Mom would act like she had no idea what I’d been up to. Even though I knew she was lurking.
“Very true. And it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve shown up on Cricket’s account being ridiculous,” Nittha teased as she stood up and walked back to her chair.
Glancing around for anyone watching us, she stealthily pulled Cricket out of her carrier.
She and Nittha were wearing matching bright-blue swimsuits and sun visors.
“Okay, we need to take a couple pictures, then we’ll come back.
Gabby, will you help me, since Jamie is being all serious and brought her computer? ”
“Happy to.” Gabby grinned and peeked over the edge of her sunglasses at me. “Who works at the pool?”
“You two are technically working right now, too.” I laughed and leaned back in my chair. “Have fun.”
As soon as they were in the pool, I reached for my laptop, letting the lazy sun soak into my skin as I worked. I’d started playing with the placement of a text box on a thumbnail of BamBam holding up about fourteen different makeup brushes, when a voice I didn’t want to recognize interrupted me.
“Is someone sitting in this chair?”
I closed my eyes and willed anyone other than Ethan to be standing there. Why was he so determined to speak to me? Couldn’t he go be cute somewhere else?
“Jamie?”
Opening my eyes, I found Ethan looking down at me from behind a pair of black Wayfarer-style sunglasses and a blue baseball cap.
“I’m awake. You should not sit there.” I threw him some side-eye.
“Why?”
“Because my grandma’s window faces this direction.”
“It isn’t like she is gonna see us from all the way up there.”
“That’s what you think. She probably has a spy at the pool.” When he didn’t budge, I tried a different tactic. Turning back to my computer, I added, “Besides, don’t you want to go hang out with all the other people our age who actually make content?”
Ethan snorted and looked over at the other end of the pool, where Sterling James, one of the beauty creators on BamBam’s list of potential collaborators, and this guy who made prurient skits were splashing unsuspecting passersby.
If I was smart, I’d get up and go try to talk to Sterling instead of sitting here watching as Ethan shook his head and began spreading out his towel next to mine. “Yeah, I’m good here.”
In movies, when a guy takes off his shirt, the film starts going in slo-mo so you can watch everyone around him react without him being aware of the effect he is having on the hapless pool denizens.
I made the mistake of glancing up right as he peeled the white T-shirt from his body, revealing a thin pink scar running down his chest…
and muscles. Nothing bulky or overly defined.
Less like he was spending hours in the gym and more like a combination of genetics and someone whose job included manual labor.