Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
Twila
Holy shit.
My comment on Emerson’s video has over a thousand likes and two-hundred-sixty replies, and it’s only been about sixteen hours since I posted it yesterday. It feels a bit surreal. Okay, more than a bit. Extremely surreal.
My follower count has shot higher than I’ve ever expected, and by the replies to my simple comment, I know those followers are waiting for a reciprocal video. They want me to post a reaction. To do something as equally fun and romantic for my new…
“Boyfriend” doesn’t feel right. Requited crush? Flirt partner?
I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Whatever we are to each other in the viewers’ minds, I need to respond. Today.
Closing the app and pulling up my text thread with the girls, I type out a quick message.
Me: Can you guys come over this morning? I need some help with a new video.
Callie is the first to respond.
Callie: Oooh, is it for Emerson?
I read the message, hearing her voice in my head as she sing-songs his name. I chuckle and type back.
Me: It is. Now get your ass over here and help me.
The others reply, as well, and Callie and Raven, who are neighbors, agree to swing by and pick up Joey on their way here. You know, so there will only be one car to deal with in case there are frozen cocktails involved.
No margaritas for me, thank you. Me and tequila are on a break.
When they arrive, of course, Raven has a bottle of the devil’s juice in one hand and a jug of green mixer in the other. She ignores my complaints and heads straight for the kitchen, where she pulls out my blender and the ice bin.
“I tried to stop her,” Callie says. “I know you’re off the good stuff for now.”
“Nothing can stop me!” Raven declares in her best evil villain voice just before the blender roars to life.
“It’s ten-thirty in the morning, Raven,” I deadpan, but she points to her ear and shakes her head like she couldn’t hear me over the churning appliance.
Callie laughs, and Joey tugs at my arm to pull me out of earshot from the others.
“I don’t think I can be in the video.”
Joey has always lived with an almost-crippling anxiety, but ever since she started hanging out with her boyfriend, Dallas, he’s helped her deal with it in healthier ways than she used to––like locking herself in her apartment and rarely leaving it.
She’s better these days, but she’s obviously not ready for a BingBang video that’s nearly guaranteed to go viral.
“That’s okay. I really just wanted you here to film us. And for the moral support,” I say, and she visibly relaxes.
I quickly rechoreograph the idea I had in mind so it’ll work with three people instead of four. I’d never push Joey into doing something she’s not comfortable with.
We sit on the couch, and Callie and Raven join us a minute later with four margarita glasses filled to the brim. I take mine with an eye roll and zero intentions of drinking it, but as I explain to the girls what I want to do in the video, I find myself unconsciously sipping from the glass.
God damn it. I’m going to regret this. I know it.
A half-hour later, Callie, Raven and I are dancing and lip-syncing to a popular sound called “I’ve Got a Crush on You.” It has a witchy feel to the beat, so we play up the vibe with long, flowing hand movements as our feet move in a matching, simple pattern.
None of us are dancers, so anything too complicated would make us look like idiots.
The final product is adorkably awkward, and it’s fucking perfect. I don’t know about the rest of BingBang, but Emerson’s going to love it. And since I’m on my third margarita before noon, his opinion is the only one that matters to me.
I post the video with the caption, “ Emerson , ” then toss my phone onto the kitchen counter before heading up to my room to change.
This get-together has reached pool party status since the others conspired in a separate group chat to wear their suits underneath their clothes.
Callie already ordered a family-sized portion of tacos, chips, queso, and guac to be delivered for lunch, and by the time I make it into the backyard, they’re all already in the pool.
I flashback to the last time we did this.
Too much tequila led to the questionable decision to send Emerson a nasty message.
That decision set off this whole chain of events, and here I am with a new, secretly not-so-fake crush on the guy who I would’ve called the bane of my existence during that last pool party.
I really want to check my phone to see if my video is getting a good response, but I left it inside on the counter for a reason.
I want to be present, in the here and now with my friends.
With that thought in mind, I drain my margarita glass, set it on the outdoor table, and run for the pool with a warrior’s cry before cannonballing into the water right next to them.
They’re muttering and sputtering when I resurface, then all three of them gang up to splash me in the face until I can barely breathe through my laughter.
This is what life’s all about. This right here.
Emerson pops into my head at the thought, and I imagine him here with us. Swimming and splashing and tossing me around in this pool while we laugh together.
Shit. No. Stop it, Twila.
This whole thing is fake, and I can’t let myself forget it.