10. Chapter 10
Chapter ten
Vibrations tickle my face. At first, I think it’s part of my dream, but then I groggily begin to wake up.
Sun streams into my living room, dancing across the tidy space as if beckoning for me to join the rest of the world.
Smooshed into my face, the phone vibrates some more.
What on earth is seriously this important?
I was having a nice, relaxing dream. This is so unfair.
I just want to hide under the blankets and pretend I didn’t hook up with a rockstar last night.
But my crotch is sore as hell and will require icing, which Roxy will never let me live down.
I guess I don’t foresee pretending it didn’t happen being an option for me after all. Fan-fucking-tastic.
I peek at my phone, instantly regretting it.
I don’t think I’ve ever had this many notifications before.
There are thousands on my home screen—from likes, comments, and reposts, to messages and message requests.
Above them all, the time glows: ten-thirty in the morning.
It’s shocking Roxy hasn’t barged over here yet with her key to wake me up.
I wonder if any of these messages are from her.
One minute I’m casually scrolling through tons of notifications, and the next I’m staring at a message from Jackson.
In all the chaos of last night, I never blocked him, partially because I wanted him to see that story, and it looks like my wish came true.
The preview text on the notification reads: What the fuck. Do you—
It cuts off, and against my better judgment, I open it.
Jackson: What the fuck. Do you think you’re cute, little slut? Trying to one-up my announcement? Your photo is clearly AI. There’s no way a rockstar would ever date you.
Rolling my eyes as far back into my head as possible, I swipe it to appear unread and back away from the messages. This particular message seems like a problem for future me.
Unfortunately, I have to see what kind of damage the post from last night has done.
I’m not sure I want to face this, but I force myself to scroll through everything.
Overall, it’s not terrible. There are a ton of my fans who are very happy for me.
Some of his fans are happy for him. And both are defending me in the comments from the crazies who are madly, deeply in love with Cas.
As I’m minding my business, clearing all these notifications, a new one flashes on my screen. Cas Wilder pops up and…holy shit! He just reposted the story. What the hell is he thinking? Is the existing chaos not enough for him?
Shit! What if he’s actually into me? I start to panic, then quickly remind myself it was only one meaningless night. Nothing else will come of this, and things will blow over. I take a deep breath, searching for calm.
My phone rings. I look at it, appalled anyone would call me. But Roxy’s name pops up, and the calm I was just searching for settles.
I pick up on the second ring, laughing, “What the hell? You haven’t even checked to make sure I’m alive.”
“I could say the same for you,” Roxy teases.
“I know you’re alive. You’re a bad bitch, and you probably made two grown men rethink their choices last night.”
It’s Roxy’s turn to cackle. “No lies detected.”
“So…” I begin awkwardly.
She interrupts me. “Girl get your ass in the backyard, bring water, and I’ve got some fresh fruit. You better spill your guts. I want to know everything about my man Cas.”
“You only want me for my water,” I snicker.
“Again, zero lies detected,” Roxy says before hanging up on me.
I burst out laughing as I pull myself off the couch to change into a pair of yoga pants and a tank.
In the kitchen, I grab water and an ice pack made from rice. Roxy only wants water from my house because she knows I splurge on the fancy San Pellegrino. My phone dings, and thinking it’s Roxy, I pause to check it.
I gasp. Cas Wilder isn’t just reposting the photo he took last night…
he’s in my DMs. Oh my fucking god. Could today get any worse?
I’m not equipped to deal with this. I just wanted to hook up.
A single transaction. I mean, would I go back for more?
Abso-fucking-lutely. That man is cocky for all the right reasons, and he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Roxy knocking on the back door snaps me out of my delusional fantasy.
I’m not ready to know why he’s messaging me.
I just hope it’s not something cringy, like offering me money—or worse, something embarrassing.
It doesn’t matter. I take a deep breath, fix my face to calm, and open the door for Roxy.
“What’s taking you so long?” she asks, eyeing the icepack suspiciously. “What’s that for?”
I wave her off. “I’m seriously not answering any of that.”
Roxy laughs. “You’ll tell me eventually.”
“Shut up,” I snap playfully. “So how was your night?”
“Oh hell no. You’re not going to deflect my questions, then ask me about my night. Oh no. You go first. I want to know everything that happened from the moment I left you.”
I swallow hard. I don’t know why I even try to keep things from her. I sigh. “After you left, we smoked a joint, ate popsicles, then hooked up.”
Roxy stares at me, jaw hanging open and eyes twinkling full of mischief as she does her best to stave off a giant grin. “Um, excuse me. Back up, little missy. Did you just say you smoked a joint?”
I nod.
“How was that experience for you?” Roxy asks, trying not to laugh.
“Shut up. Bitch, it sucked just as much as last time,” I reply, rolling my eyes playfully.
“Is that all that sucked about last night?” She emphasizes the word sucked.
“I’m not telling you that. We hooked up, that’s it.”
“Oh, come on, Vi. Please. I need to know how big Cas Wilder is. And how good is he in—oh shit!” Roxy has figured out why I have the ice pack.
She laughs hysterically. Tears pour from her eyes and stream down her face.
“It’s not funny, and I guess you have your answer. Now I repeat: how was your night?”
Roxy takes a few minutes to pull herself together, and when she finally can talk, she answers, “Just remember you pried this information out of me, so I don’t want any bullshit, ‘taksies backsies.’”
“Okay,” I say, terrified of whatever depraved sexual acts she carried out last night.
“I just enjoyed a pretty standard sandwich situation. Everyone had their respective holes, and I was the center of attention in it all. Now smile, nod, and don’t ask any more questions.”
I give her a thumbs-up.
“Now it’s your turn again,” Roxy says, peeling the top off the glass bowl of mixed fruit.
“I feel like you’re bribing me,” I tease as I swipe a strawberry.
“Maybe I am, but are you mad?”
“No.”
“Next question: what’s up with your phone? It hasn’t stopped flashing alerts.”
“I take it you haven’t been on social media yet this morning?”
“Nope. Spill.”
I hand Roxy my phone. “Check my stories. Let’s start there.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this.” Roxy sounds like she might actually be offended.
“Swearsies, I had no idea who he was. I thought he was, like, the drummer or a backup dancer or something. Imagine how embarrassing that was for me, Rox,” I plead.
She snort-laughs. “You’re right, that is quite embarrassing.”
Shrugging her off, I try to casually continue making confessions. “On top of that, he reposted the story.”
“I think he’s into you, Vi. He reposted it.”
“It was the perfect one-night stand. He’s not into me, and this was clearly a publicity stunt. It will blow over and go away.” I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince—myself or Roxy.
She arches her brow but says nothing. She doesn’t need to call me out. We both know it. Stupid, telepathic best friend bullshit.
“I know, but look, it gets worse. Jackson saw my story—“
“I fail to see how that’s a bad thing, Vi,” she interrupts.
“Well, take a peek at my messages. He left me a lovely little note.”
She taps my phone a few times, then screams. “Oh-My-God! Cas Wilder is in your DMs and he’s totally fucking into you!”
“I’m aware, but I can’t deal with that until after I deal with my Jackson problem,” I say, holding my hand up to stop her from arguing.
“But—“ Roxy protests.
“No!”
“Fine. What did he say?” she asks.
I can feel the tension wrapping itself around me in a tight coil. Simply remembering the message makes me all kinds of anxious. “I just want to block him and move the fuck on.”
Roxy is quiet. She read the message and is now sitting in a rage-induced zone out. Probably imagining all the ways she could murder him and hide the body.
“I personally think we leave it to a professional,” I joke, breaking the silence.
“Leave what?”
“The murder,” I chuckle.
Roxy cackles, her serious exterior crumbling. “You’re probably right. Can I reply and tell him to choke on a bag of dicks?”
“Reply away, as long as you block him after.”
“Deal,” she says. “Fuck you, asshole. That’s the real motherfucking deal. Check his story. XOXO, Roxy. Hold on, I’m sharing the story directly to him, and blockity-block.”
“I feel better already.” I blow her a kiss, and she catches it.
“Me too, Vi. Now can we go down a Cas Wilder hole?”
“Do we have to?” I whine.
“You will do this for me so I can live vicariously through you, because if the tables were turned, I’d do it for you.”
It’s hard to argue with her when she makes such logical points. “Fine,” I relent.
“Good, because he’s still active!” she squeals.
I roll my eyes. “Okay, lay it on me. What does his message say?”
She reads it, gasps, then passes the phone back to me. I read the message, panic, and shove my phone back at her.
“What do I say?”
“You say yes, daddy.“ Roxy laughs, and I join in.
“Okay, but seriously, how about just an ‘okay’? Because I could go for getting under Jackson’s skin. You know he’s going to lose his shit when he sees the story from Cas.”
“There’s my petty little bestie. Get it, girl. I say make Jackson as mad as you want. It’s his loss. He stepped out of the relationship. You just closed the door and locked it behind him. But I think you can do better than just ‘okay.’”
I throw my head back in frustration. I don’t know the first thing about flirting or being single. “Why is this so hard?” I whine.
“It’s okay, babe, I got you. Let’s play this a little flirty with a side of hard-to-get.
Trust me, a man like Cas is going to enjoy the chase.
He’s used to getting what he wants; if you don’t give in the way he expects you to, it will only make him want you more.
” Roxy is about to go down an entire lecture side quest on how to fuck with this man mentally when I shoot her a side look.
“Stop it. I trust you. No need to explain yourself to me—just text him and make it sound like me.”
“I’ll send the first message for you and then I’ll be here for moral support. You’ve got this.” She’s right. I do.
“Okay, let’s do it while he’s still live.”