Chapter 6
SIX
SUMMER
“Ten million views?” I repeat, gaping at my phone.
“Yep.” Lulu’s voice drifts out of the speaker. “Breathe. Are you breathing?”
I don’t respond. I’m sitting on the short stone wall surrounding the farmhouse’s small kitchen garden. It’s cute out here. Birds trill overhead, and the fresh air is scented with the herbs growing in the guys’ neat little rockery.
Unfortunately, I can’t enjoy the peaceful atmosphere. I’m too busy staring at my phone in horror.
Overnight, the video of me crying has hit ten million views.
I don’t understand how this has happened. I’m breathing hard as I scroll through the comments.
What a spoiled brat
Guys, I don’t think you get it. IT WAS LIMITED EDITION
Grow up and get a real job
“Are you spiralling?” Lulu asks, businesslike.
“Yes.”
“Deep breaths. Picture a scenic rustic countryside.”
I look around at the scenic rustic countryside. “Er. Okay. Done.”
“I will fix this, okay? I’ll bury it so deep no one ever even finds its bones. This is my job. This is what I do.”
I nod, but the comments swim in front of my eyes.
A grown woman responding like this to broken makeup is literally dystopian
What is wrong with this girl?
She’s so shallow it’s actually disgusting.
“Hey.” Lulu’s voice firms. “Listen to me. You didn’t do anything wrong.
You were tired and drunk, and you cried.
I sobbed like a baby the last time I drunk ordered a pizza and they forgot to add the pepperoni.
” I sniff. “People love finding someone to hate on, but this will all blow over. Don’t worry about it. ”
“Sure,” I mumble.
The truth is, I can’t not worry about it.
Ever since I was a kid, I’ve hated people not liking me.
It makes me feel…off-balance. Scared. It’s probably how I managed to do so well on social media.
I’m a well-practiced people pleaser. As soon as my platform started growing, it was second nature to just twist myself into what my audience wanted to see.
You think I look tired with no makeup? No worries, I’ll never take a picture barefaced again. You don’t like when I talk about designing my own clothes? I’ll stop making those posts. You think my roots look ugly? Guess what, I now book salon appointments every two weeks.
I’ve spent the last few years being the prettiest, bubbliest, most likeable version of Summer I can be. And now everyone hates me. I check my follower count. I’ve lost several thousand followers. I feel like I’m falling down a hole.
“Should I stop posting for a bit?” I whisper.
Lulu’s voice gets an edge. “No. Listen. Summer? If you don’t want this to become a bigger deal, you have to keep posting.
Pausing right now would turn this into a story.
Nothing says ‘guilty’ like going dark. A girl crying at a party is hardly a crime.
A girl crying at a party and then falling off the face of the planet?
People will start wondering why. I’ll book your ticket down to London tonight, we’ll have a pint of ice cream about it, and then we’ll keep going on as normal.
God, I cannot believe those bitches at the spa cancelled without even talking to me, if I were there I’d poke their eyes out—”
Even the thought of going home makes my throat tighten. “I can’t,” I realise.
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t go back to London. Not while this is happening.”
Everyone will have seen the video. The neighbours in my building. My local barista. People I pass in the street. Everyone will be looking at me and judging me.
“I’m scared,” I say. “I don’t want to go back there. It’s too embarrassing.”
“Well, what else can you do?”
“I don’t know.” I look around the garden for inspiration. “Maybe I just…stay here for a bit?”
As soon as I say it, I realise it’s perfect. This place is so secluded, and I highly doubt Cameron, Fraser, and Alec spend their free time scrolling through Picturegram.
“You…want to stay on a sheep farm?” Lulu asks. I can hear the blatant horror in her voice. “With, like… mud?”
Lulu is deathly afraid of any mud that doesn’t come in face mask form.
“It’s nice,” I enthuse, looking around the garden. “I could make some really nice content here. And it’s just for a few days, right?”
“If you want to stay up in Scotland, at least go down to Edinburgh. I can book you into a hotel, and you can go shopping. No need to live on a farm in the middle of nowhere.”
“But I want to be in the middle of nowhere. If I go to the city, there might be people who’ll recognise me. Please, Lulu?”
Lulu sounds doubtful. “I mean, if you want to. Send me the address though.”
“I will,” I say. “And I promise I’ll keep posting. Anything else I need to know?”
She sighs. I hear a keyboard clacking. “You’ve had a couple of brands cancel contracts. I’ll send you the updated list.” I make a wounded noise. “It’s to be expected. Things will pick back up.”
I don’t even want to ask. “What about the Icons Only collab?”
“No news from them.”
I sag with relief. Thank God. That’s the only brand deal that really matters to me. If I lose that, I might just give up.
“What else? Oh, ADHD Voices thank you for your generous monthly donation. They’re asking again if you want to become a public rep for them.”
I squirm. “No. Thank them for their offer though. It just…”
“Sure. I get it, babe.”
ADHD Voices is a charity that funds private treatment for adults with ADHD.
They helped me years ago after I dropped out of uni, asked my doctor to see an ADHD specialist, and was put on a snappy three-year waiting list. I’ve been donating to them ever since I started making influencer money.
They do great work, but I don’t want to be a rep for them.
That would be a little too raw. A little too me.
“Are you sure you want to stay up there? Alone?” Lulu asks. “I’m worried about you on your own in the middle of nowhere. If you come back to London, at least I’ll be with you.”
“I’ll be fine. I just need to hide away for a bit, I think.” There are crunching footsteps in the grass, and I look up to see Cameron and Fraser both stepping out into the garden. “Actually, my Airbnb host is here now. I should check with him. Call you back?”
“Ooh. He’s a he? Is he hot?”
I remember Cameron’s arms around me last night. “Er. Yes. One might say that.”
“Well, now I get why you want to stay on a gross-ass farm. I fully support you staying in Scotland and getting a knobbing. Okay, call you later, babe.” She hangs up.
I wave at the men. “Cameron!” I call over the garden. Both men pause. Cameron reluctantly trudges towards me.
“What,” he says. He’s put on a brown jacket that hugs his shoulders, and I try to ignore how good it looks on him.
“Can I extend my stay a bit? Like, maybe until the end of the week?”
His face is steely. “Why.”
“There’s, um, some stuff going on in London I’d like a break from.”
“We don’t let guests stay that long. The cabin is meant to be an overnight rest stop.”
Crap. “Can you make an exception?” I ask hopefully. “I can pay you extra.”
“We don’t let guests stay that long,” he repeats flatly. “I don’t care about your money.”
“Oh. Okay.” I wilt.
There’s a pause. “What kind of stuff is going on in London?” he asks.
“Er. Unpleasant stuff?” I say honestly, and his face flickers. “Please? It would be a massive help.” I do my best smile at him.
His jaw tightens. A few seconds pass. Wind gushes through the garden. “Fine,” he says eventually.
Relief floods me. “Oh my God, thank you so much! Thank you!”
“Stop saying that. I’ll update it in the app.” He turns and heads off again.
My shoulders slump. Thank God. It’s all going to be okay. I’ll keep posting here for a few days, and this whole thing will blow over, and then my life will go back to normal again. Phew.
“Couldn’t get enough of us?” Fraser calls, tramping over to join me.
“Nope,” I say, running my eyes over him.
He’s put on a gorgeous tartan scarf that I am immediately deadly jealous of.
I need to make sure I go shopping before my trip is up.
The thought cheers me up even more. Everything will be fine.
This will be fun. Like a mini holiday. I ignore the anxiety still thrumming through me.
Fraser grins at me. “Fancy a quick tour of the farm before I get started for the morning?”
“Really?”
“Aye, c’mon.” He offers me a hand. “Right this way.”