He polished off the last bite of his crepe. “Good. I’m glad you’re getting what you want.”
“Speaking of the internet though . . . Have you seen the hashtag yet? Are there any developments?”
He took a sip of his juice. “I checked. No one’s found out who you are.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“What else?”
“Isn’t that all you care about?”
She made a face. “You know I need more details.”
“Do you, though?”
If you look, then you can get on with the rest of your schedule. She pulled out her phone and opened the Twitter app. She clicked on the search button, but didn’t have to type in the CafeBae tag. It was still trending.
Her stomach sank. So much for someone or something else absorbing the internet’s attention.
She scrolled through, many of the tweets stuff she’d seen before. Becca the Witch’s original post had grown exponentially in likes and retweets. It took her a few minutes to discover what was responsible for the unflagging interest.
Ross.
His smile beamed out from his avatar, and he was as handsome as ever. His handle was RossAlwaysWins and she was glad, on the basis of that alone, that she hadn’t accepted his date invitation. The tweet after it cinched her certainty.
Haha, thought you were taking pictures. #CafeBae #itme
A layer of cold settled over her. This. Dick. “Did you see this? Ross, the guy I sat with, he revealed himself.” Her voice was dull. The sharp taste of fear came and went, but for the most part she was insulated by ice.
Jas’s growl would have surprised her if she weren’t so numb. It was so much louder and more ferocious than any grunt. “I did.”
“What the fuck?” She stared at Ross’s face, bewildered. “If he knew she was taking pictures, why didn’t he stop her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he know this was going to happen?” Ross’s tweet had been retweeted almost as many times as the original, and the numbers climbed as she watched.
“I don’t think anyone can predict what catches the internet’s attention.”
Katrina clicked on Ross’s profile and scrolled through his tweets, her ire growing as she read. His tweets were either retweets of other people virtually high-fiving him or more coy acknowledgments about him being the focus of the twittersphere. I didn’t realize I was internet famous til my mom told me, what a trip, haha, she read from one tweet, then clicked to the next. So #grateful for everyone who cares so much about our happiness. She looked to Jas. “Our? Who the hell is our?” She shot to her feet. “Is he implying that we actually went out? Or that it was the love match this . . . this Peeping Tina spun it as?”
“Seems like it.”
“This is bananas.” She paced and scrolled, and scrolled and paced, growing ever more agitated as she read.
She stopped when she got to a quote tweet. Did you really hook up with her?
And Ross’s gross, coy, winky acknowledgment. I don’t kiss and tell.
Katrina swallowed her bile, feeling vaguely violated. No, not vaguely. Actually, genuinely violated. “I don’t kiss and tell?” She shook her head. She’d been homeschooled for all of high school as she’d moved from modeling shoot to shoot, so she’d missed out on some experiences, but she imagined this was what it felt like to have the most popular guy in school tell everyone she’d gone all the way.
Only on a more massive, global scale. “Do you know what he’s implying? That we . . .” She dropped her voice. “Had sex.”
Jas’s nostrils flared. “Yeah. I know.”
“That’s disgusting. What kind of man implies something like that to hundreds of thousands of people?”
It was amazing how much she could hate someone who had seemed so benign. Your body knew not to zing. At least you didn’t go out with him. That’s something.
Jas shifted. “No good man.”
“We were only gone for a couple of minutes! Do these people know how sex even works? Have you ever had two-minute sex?” She bit her tongue as soon as she said the words. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
She swiped the back of her hand over her mouth, trying to sidestep from that intrusive question that placed Jas in the same world as sex. “This could have disappeared if he hadn’t revealed his identity. All these people will want to know who I am now, they’re already asking. He fed the beast.”
“You don’t know that.”
She didn’t hear him. “I was having a normal, innocent chat with a stranger. And he and this woman seem fine—possibly even thrilled—about this attention. And they don’t care that I feel . . .” Terrified. Violated. Exposed.
Furious.
She reached into her pocket, but the rock couldn’t cool her anger now. “It’s not fair.”
Jas came slowly to his feet and braced his hands on the back of a chair. “It’s not.”
“Aren’t you mad?”
“I am. I’m so mad for you.”
But his voice was monotone. His growl told her he was upset about this, but she wanted him to rage along with her. “I want to throw something.”
He picked up his mug, drained it, and then offered it to her.
She scowled. “I’m not breaking your mug.”
“Okay.” He shrugged. The loud crack as it smashed against the wall made her jump.
“The fuck, Jas?”
“It’s not china. Pretty sure my mom got this stuff from a thrift store. In 1998.” He offered her her empty plate. “Go on. Just one.”
She eyed the plate. Before she could overthink it, she grabbed the ceramic plate and threw it on the floor. The crash was intensely satisfying. She looked up at him. “That felt so good. It was amazing.”
“Better than two-minute sex, for sure.”
She opened her mouth and then closed it again. Holy shit. Was that a . . . was that a slightly off-color joke Jas had just told? In her presence?
She and Rhiannon had cracked way more racy jokes to each other, but Jas . . . he was so proper!
Maybe he saw Jia’s text, and this is his way of flirting with you?
No. Not a freaking chance.
She was processing for so long, she didn’t move while he went to the pantry in the corner and returned with the broom and dustpan. “Oh, let me.”
He waved her away. “Go work. Take advantage of how good you feel after some light destruction.”
“Right. I’m sure I have spreadsheets or, um, something to look over.”
“I’m sure you do.” He swept up the mug shards.
She raked her fingers through her hair, his easy pragmatism grounding her. He always grounded her.
Driven by a foreign compulsion, she covered the distance between them and wrapped her arms around Jas.
It was a second, maybe two. Their chests pressed together, and she rested her cheek over his heart. He was stock still, his arms at his sides, the broom and dustpan still in his hands.
She didn’t look at him as she released him and walked away. She’d never hugged him before, and, while new, it had felt . . . right. So right, she wanted to go back in for a second hug. Maybe a longer one.