37. THE ONE WITH THE DIAGRAM
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
THE ONE WITH THE DIAGRAM
WestParkerComedy: Philly, I think you’ve been my favorite city yet
HexedHeroine commented on WestParkerComedy’s post: Idk I think you’re gonna like Baltimore even more
Comment reply: WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?
Comment reply: Mommy and Daddy have something up their sleeve. I can feel it…
I’m the last one to come down in the morning, sleeping through the alarm Frankie set for a shower. She wakes me before going downstairs to start some coffee, reminding me she’s going back to Boston in a few hours.
Frankie’s got to figure out what comes next for her, while I stay behind and do the same for me.
I don’t really know what it is I’m looking for, but something tells me I might find it if I keep doing what I’m doing.
Part of me wishes we were both in Boston doing it together like we do everything else, but I don’t think I’m ready to go home yet.
Sam is first on Frankie’s figure-out list—meaning she’s officially ending whatever’s left of their flatlined relationship. I’m not sure it had a heartbeat to begin with, but I’m proud of her regardless.
She’d come to the conclusion three days ago when he texted her about not liking her name being tied to all this weird shit—his words, not mine—with me.
I texted him a diagram with step-by-step instructions on how to find the clit and G-spot. He blocked me and West within minutes.
Not sure why he brought West into it, but this just proves my point—dude’s a fucking dud.
“Feeling better?” Frankie asks when I enter the kitchen after taking a quick shower, hoping to wash the memory of West’s touch from my skin before seeing him.
She’s the second person to notice me. West’s eyes are on me the millisecond I’m in the same room.
Oh, yeah… I had a headache. “Much.” I smile, pouring myself a cup of coffee. The steam from the mug hides the heat I feel from West’s gaze for no more than a single breath.
I lean against the counter, my hair still damp.
My black leggings are tucked into a pair of white socks, but I’m still in a fuzzy pair of slippers I take everywhere I travel.
Floor crusties on the bottom of my feet can make or break my entire day.
I chose a simple white tank top, preparing myself for the layers I’ll throw over this outfit to ride with Frankie to the train station.
“Good! Because you have two more viral videos from last night.” Frankie pats the seat beside her at the kitchen table. West is on the other end.
I slide in, and she shows me the first. It’s from someone a few rows behind. You can’t see my face from their angle, but it catches West perfectly.
6.7 million views.
Frankie holds the phone while I scroll through comments.
Comment: YES! See, this is what we’re keeping them popular for!
Comment: Goddamn it, I’m so single
Comment: looks like his dream girl? I hope they livestream the wedding
My face isn’t hidden in the next video. It looks like it was taken from the VIP section right beside us. They zoom into West’s shirt, panning back to me.
This one has eight million views and was posted an hour after the other.
Comment: She looks like such a bitch why would he even entertain her
Comment reply: No, seriously. Like, compared to the other girls he’s been spotted with too? She’s not even THAT pretty!
Comment reply: Y’all sound jealous & ugly
West talks for the first time since I left his room early this morning. “Congrats on three million followers, by the way.”
I freeze, my finger hovering over Frankie’s screen.
There’s no fucking way.
I sit up from my slouched position against Frankie’s arm, snatching the phone out of her hand to pull my account up.
3.1 million followers.
“Oh my god,” I hear myself say on an exhale and check West’s account next.
1.9 million followers.
That’s over 1.5 million new followers in four weeks for both of us. On one single platform.
Holy fucking shit.
West’s lips twitch into a crooked smile with a single dimple. “If you all thought I was insufferable when I hit a million followers, just wait until two.”
My worry about last night’s decision causing any awkwardness this morning disappears. We’re buzzing with excitement, Frankie insisting we need to take a group picture to commemorate this moment.
“Set the phone up,” she urges, pushing me out of the chair with her phone in my hand. I get up before I fall, propping Frankie’s phone against the paper towel holder on the counter.
I set the timer for ten seconds and plop back down beside Frankie. She pulls me into her chest, wrapping her arms around me from behind. I think we’re laughing in most of the shots, but we do eventually hold it together for one.
When we get a picture Frankie approves of, she points at me and then West. “Now, you two.”
West glances at me, waiting for my reaction.
I expect myself to shy away at the thought, but I don’t. Crossing the small kitchen feels like I’m walking a runway. West never takes his eyes off me. I slide into the chair next to him, and he puts his arm around my shoulders.
I’m pretty sure this is only our second posed picture together. Frankie coos about how cute us multi-millionaires are, and I sneak a glance at West. He must have had the same thought because we catch eyes and smile at each other with a secret bigger than the entire city of Philadelphia.
“So, um, while we have everyone here…” I say when Frankie lowers her phone.
Enzo leans against the counter. Kell pauses in the middle of the room. West slides his arm off my shoulder.
“Josette Matilda, are you pregnant?” Frankie pales, her hand covering her mouth.
“Holy shit, your mom’s gonna be stoked!” Kell claps his hands together once.
“No!” West and I both say at the same time.
“No,” I shake my head and repeat again. “I’m not pregnant.” I have to say the words out loud so everyone knows we’re very clear on that.
Frankie’s hand falls to her chest. “For the record, I would support you and be the best Aunt ever.” She eyes me and West. “And you two would have a very cute ba—”
“Frankie,” I scold.
“Right, sorry. Continue.” She grits her teeth in an apologetic smile.
I look to West for help. I’m endlessly grateful he catches on without pause.
“It’s becoming increasingly obvious our views are significantly higher when we’re in videos together. People don’t care about us as much if we aren’t a couple.” I hope no one else catches the way he looks at me when he says that last part.
I nod, nibbling on the inside of my lip before picking up where he left off.
“West suggested we start filming some content together earlier this week, but to no one’s surprise, I told him no, but if we’re doing all this to make money, we might as well capitalize on the brand deals offering double if we’re both involved. ”
“You mean, the brands who will offer double?” West clarifies.
I scrunch my nose. “No… I mean, the ones who already have.” Holding my finger up to Enzo, because I know he’s bound to say something impulsive, I continue. “Hex is still mine. I get to decide what I’m comfortable with and when. My hesitancy never impacted West’s offers, only mine.”
Enzo looks remorseful for words he never said. “No, of course. No one wants you to do anything you don’t want, Jo.”
Mature men are so hot.
“Virality of this type only lasts so long before people get bored. We’re already seeing that a little bit.
If we can keep the momentum up through the end of this tour, giving the world pieces of what they think they want to see, we’ll have a seamless transition into the new year with brand deals and hopefully a sold-out tour for next year too.
” Our lives are already never going to be the same after all this—we might as well go out with a bang if we’re able.
Since being doxxed, I’ve taken three deals of my own for Hex. When the last contract pays out in February, I’ll have $80,000 sitting to the side. I could ride this out for a while, but I don’t want to do social media as a career. Not in this way, at least.
Hex becoming a job was never what I envisioned when I started her account. It was an escape, and I’d like to keep it that way.
I’ve added job hunting to my to-do list for this week.
Right up until Frankie needs to leave, we discuss logistics, agree that West and I split any brand deals we’re both involved in down the middle, and update our social media schedule to include filming time for me and West.
We all argue with her about taking a rideshare to the station by herself, but she eventually wins, reminding us it’s 10:30 in the morning, and hardly no one ever gets adult-napped at 10:30 a.m.
I walk her to the front porch, squeezing her tight when a blue car pulls up. “Call me as soon as you get home.”
“You know I will.” She squats down, rummaging through her bag for something. “Oh, and about this Hex and West Parker thing…”
I knew she wasn’t saying everything she wanted to around the boys. My reassuring words catch in my throat when she pulls out the sweater I wore last night.
Frankie stands, holding it out to me with a raised brow.
I couldn’t find it this morning after showering, hoping it was somewhere hidden inside West’s room. “Where was this?” I ask, failing miserably at concealing the tremor in my voice.
Frankie crosses her arms. “Outside West’s door when we got home from the bar.”
I do my best to come up with a compelling lie. “When I was leaving—”
“You don’t owe me an explanation, JoJo.” Frankie leans down to zip her bag closed.
I hold the sweater against my chest.
“It’s okay if it’s also a Joey and West thing.” She finishes her original thought and hugs me one more time before hopping down the steps.
I wave when the car pulls away from the curb, draping my sweater in the crook of my elbow.
A fall storm is rolling in later this afternoon with temperatures expected to plummet, bringing a nasty mix of rain and freezing conditions until sometime after midnight. The townhouse owner allowed us to extend another night, giving us the unusual opportunity to have a lazy day in.
I could really fucking use one after my long night with West…
People pass by, moving about their mornings. They have no idea what I’m going through, or how much my life has changed in less than a full month. The world goes on, and no one stops to see if the woman wearing a tank top on the porch in October is okay.
“Joey.” West’s voice pulls me from my daze.
I turn my head to find him leaning against the door frame, arms folded over his chest, and brows knitted in the middle with a quiet worry written across his face.
“It’s cold as fuck, you’re not wearing your sweater, and your hair’s damp. Get inside before you freeze.”
He always seems to show up at the perfect moment, yanking me from the edge of my despair.
A chill shoots down my spine. I blame the plunging temperature instead of admitting what it truly is. I cross my arms, hoping to cover up how hard my nipples are from the cooling metal of my piercings. “It’s not even that bad yet,” I lie.
He glances directly at my boobs, making me do the same. The sweater’s hiding my nipples. When I return my eyes to him, he’s stepped to the side, holding the front door open.
Before he closes it, West leans over my shoulder, whispering against my ear. “They’ve been hard all morning. It wasn’t the cold’s fault.”