Never look at social media when you’re down
NEVER LOOK AT SOCIAL MEDIA WHEN YOU’RE DOWN
Brynn
Stella was talking to me about our flight plans for tomorrow, but for once, I didn’t hear a word she said. I was lost in thoughts over a freaking granola bar.
I’d kept meaning to bring up snacks to Stella, but I always forgot by the time we got done with everything and I was too tired to care.
It was one of those things that fell off the priority list, especially when everyone was so on edge because of my stalker.
And no one had seemed to notice—mainly because I did everything in my power not to add to anyone’s plate unless it was absolutely necessary.
But Wyatt had noticed.
A riot of butterflies took flight in my stomach, and I placed my hand over it, curious if I could feel it from the outside the way it seemed to be consuming my insides.
“Are you feeling okay?”
His deep voice washed over me and caused arousal to pool in my belly below where the butterflies fluttered.
“I’m fine,” I said, turning back to glance at him.
His gaze was already locked on my face, and the concern that made his brown brows furrow had my heart joining the mix of havoc that he was wreaking on my body.
When was the last time someone had noticed the little things? When was the last time someone had wanted to take care of me who wasn’t on my payroll?
Except Wyatt was on my payroll. So, was this just part of his job?
The fluttering stopped and was replaced with a sick feeling in my stomach.
Somehow the thought that he only cared because I paid him to made my heart hurt. Maybe it was because he was doing far more than my last bodyguard or maybe I was just going through a quarter-life crisis.
Whatever the reason, I needed to get my head back on straight. Of course it hadn’t meant anything to him. He was just doing his job, and I needed to focus on doing mine.
As we approached the suite, he stepped forward and unlocked the door.
I stood in the hallway while he did a sweep of both rooms and then gave me the nod that everything was clear.
I turned to Stella and tried to ignore the twinge of guilt when I realized she was still talking to me and I hadn’t caught a single word.
I placed a hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry, Stella. Can we go over this all in the morning? I’m wiped and not focusing very well.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh gosh, of course. You get some sleep and we’ll debrief in the morning and go over next week’s agenda.”
I gave her a wan smile. “Thanks.”
“Night!” she said as she spun on her heel and headed to her own room.
I locked the door behind her and let the weight of the day drag my shoulders down. Leaning my forehead on the closed door, I shut my eyes and took a breath to center myself.
A throat cleared behind me, and I silently cursed myself for not remembering that I wasn’t actually alone on this tour.
I pushed my shoulders back and spun around, meeting Wyatt’s dark gaze. “Anything else you need from me tonight?”
His eyes narrowed slightly, but otherwise his face didn’t change. After a pause he said, “No.”
I hated how my stomach swooped just from the way this man looked at me. Like he could see right through all the makeup and costumes and fake smiles to my very soul.
I broke our gaze, afraid if I stared any longer I’d see him decide that I was lacking and give me that cool, stoic demeanor he wore every day.
“Okay, then I’m going to bed.”
I walked toward my room, which happened to be next to his, but I knew he wouldn’t go to sleep until I’d fallen asleep, just like he had every night before on this tour.
“Good night, Brynn.” His deep voice washed over me, and my steps faltered for a second before I caught myself and made the slight misstep look purposeful.
“Good night,” I said, not daring to look back.
I shut the door behind me and went through my usual nighttime routine on autopilot.
I shouldn’t want him to care more than his job required.
He may be insanely attractive, competent, and considerate of others, but he was my bodyguard.
He was off-limits and my life was already under scrutiny.
The last thing I needed was a rumor going around about us.
I got into bed, but no matter what position I got into, I couldn’t get comfortable enough to fall asleep.
My mind was buzzing and my body felt almost restless.
It wasn’t unusual to be buzzing from endorphins and adrenaline after a show, but usually the ritual of my nighttime routine managed to calm me enough that I could sleep.
I rolled over to the nightstand and grabbed my cell phone to pull up a meditation app.
Except my gaze caught on my social media app and I clicked on it instead.
I knew it was a mistake almost instantly.
There was a reason I’d hired a social media manager whose sole responsibility was running all my accounts.
I rarely checked any of them myself unless I was doing a live or something.
It seemed my social media manager had been earning her pay.
I figured the vitriol from my ex’s growing fan base was going to be bad, but I had no idea it was this bad.
My posts were filled with nasty comments about my body—although they couldn’t seem to decide whether I was a “fat bitch” or a “skinny whore.”
My gaze caught on the most recent comment on my latest post.
You deserve to be alone. No one will ever luv you cuz ur a stuck-up b!tch who thinks she’s better than everyone.
I dropped the phone on my stomach and stared at the white ceiling of my hotel room as my heart ached in my chest, not because the comment was mean—I was used to that—but because she’d voiced my own fears. I was worried the price of my fame was that I’d never find someone who loved me for me.
My whole body felt heavy. So heavy I wondered if it was possible for the weight of everyone’s expectations and thoughts about me to weigh so much that I would fall through the bed, the hotel, and deep into the earth.
If I said that out loud, the media would have a field day calling me dramatic. Everything I did, every thought I had, every single second of my life was picked apart with a microscope. It’s like they forgot there was an actual person underneath the fancy clothes and makeup.
I had a heart. I had feelings. But if I pointed that out, then I was the villain looking for attention. It was a lose-lose situation.
Which only made this insane crush I’d developed on my bodyguard even more of an impossibility.
Not because of what they’d say about me—because it was already clear I couldn’t do anything right as far as the media was concerned—but because they’d tear Wyatt down, and he didn’t deserve that.
He didn’t deserve to live under a microscope and have all his past actions called into question.
I plugged my phone back in and set it back on the nightstand, then rolled over and pulled the sheets over my head.
I could hide under here even if only temporarily.
Under the covers in the dark, I could let myself feel the warmth I’d felt when I thought Wyatt cared…
just because. I could pretend even though it was stupid to feed the fantasy about him when it could never go anywhere.
It was the memory of Wyatt’s dark eyes and brows furrowed in concern that finally pulled me into a deep sleep.