Chapter 1 #3
My throat aches as we drive down the road that leads to the cottages, which were built fifty years ago when the family moved out of the mansion.
Audrey is standing at the end of the driveway when Wes pulls in.
“Something is going on,” he murmurs, pulling into his normal parking place.
That much is clear. Audrey’s face is… strange.
She’s shorter and curvier than me. Her hair is as long as mine, but it’s a lighter brown and straight as a stick, unlike my constantly rumpled waves. She’s also smarter than anyone I’ve ever known.
She used to drive me crazy by spouting out random facts about everything imaginable, but she’s been my best friend all our lives.
She’s got another year in a PhD program in history, and she’s been living at home to write her dissertation.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, jumping out of the SUV and running over. “Is everyone all right?”
“Everyone is fine.” She’s holding her phone like it’s a sacred text. “But did you know… I mean, were you aware…?”
“Was I aware of what?”
My heart is beating fast. Whatever this is must be serious, and it’s momentarily diverted me from my distress.
I texted everyone after the appointment, of course, so they all know the bad news. That isn’t what this is.
Audrey clears her throat and lifts her phone. “Someone… someone was watching you. You and Wes. In the waiting room.”
“What?” Now I’m baffled, and I turn instinctively toward Wes, who has come to stand beside me.
He’s as confused as I am.
“They started by posting one picture, joking about how you two were obviously enemies-to-lovers in a fight. A bunch of people liked and commented, so the person kept posting about you. And now it’s… It’s gone crazy.”
“What are you even talking about?”
Audrey hands me her phone. She’s got a post on Threads pulled up.
It is indeed a photo of me and Wes, sitting with one seat between us, slanting annoyed looks at each other.
Then the account continues the thread with more photos. Of us talking to each other. Of me glaring at his back as we walk into the office.
Hundreds of people have commented, enjoying the charming, clever narration of each photo and asking for further updates.
It’s Hipster Girl. I know it for sure. That’s why she kept moving seats. She wasn’t scrolling on her phone. She was snapping photos of us.
She must have waited until we came out of the appointment so she could catch us again. She actually filmed our intense conversation by the windows. She didn’t capture any audio, but the angst and intensity are clear from the video.
I can see why the post took off. I can understand why hundreds of thousands of people liked it, commented, and started following along.
The number of views and engagement is astounding.
It’s gone viral.
“What the hell?” Wes mutters, peering at Audrey’s phone over my shoulder. “Why would anyone do that?”
“Because that’s what people do now. Make everything a performance for social media.
” Audrey’s voice is dry, but she’s obviously worried.
She’s eyeing me with concern. “I’m so sorry.
Natalie said it’s all over social media now.
People have even edited the photos and video together and put them to music to make reels. They’re… everywhere.”
“In a couple of hours?” Wes isn’t a social media guy. The only account he has is LinkedIn. “What is wrong with people?”
“It’s like a game,” I say, slightly hoarse. “They think it’s a game even though it’s our lives.”
“Is there anything we can do?” Wes looks disgusted rather than angry or upset, like the world is populated by fools who are far beneath him.
“Take legal action to get it taken down? Maybe? But once it’s gone viral, there’s no way to really remove it.” I rub my face. “Who even cares?”
“You don’t care? That your face is out there with ridiculous stories about us being secretly in love?”
The truth is it does bother me. It makes me feel naked. Exposed.
But even this doesn’t hurt as much as losing Blossom Park.
I’m about to answer when Natalie comes running out. She’s tall and fit and with golden highlights in her hair. She’s waving her iPad as she runs toward us. “You won’t believe what’s happening!”
We all turn toward her approach.
“What is it?” I ask.
“They somehow figured out who you are, Ella. And we’ve had eight event inquires in the past ten minutes.”
“Wh-what?”
“They know you’re from Blossom Park, and for some reason they want to host events here because of it.” She stares down at her tablet. “Six more came in since I left the house. What is even happening here?”
“Oh my God,” Audrey murmurs on a gasp. “Maybe it will help. Maybe you going viral will help.”
“Really?” My heart is still galloping but with excitement now as well as confusion. “You think it will put Blossom Park on the map again?”
I peer at the iPad and see two more emails come in as I watch, automated notifications that someone filled in the event inquiry form on our website.
“What ridiculous kind of world is this?” Wes mutters, leaning over to see as well. He’s put an arm at my back to make room for himself, but neither of us cares at the moment.
All that matters is this crazy twist of fate.
One that might save us all.