Aaron strides past the woman, not sparing her a glance as he approaches me.
“Can we go?” I ask tiredly. “Or if you want to stay, I can Uber it home.”
“Of course, we’re going,” he replies, taking my purse and sliding it on my shoulder. He grabs my hand, then starts leading me down the staircase toward the exit.
People try to stop him, but he blows them off, shoulder turned slightly to push his way through the crowd while pulling me along behind him.
When we get out in the parking lot, Aaron cuts left toward his truck. He offers me an apology. “I’m sorry that happened.”
“I can never compete with that,” I mutter.
Aaron stops dead in his tracks, then whips around on me. “Why would you think you’d need to?”
I shrug, staring hard at the asphalt parking lot. I’m being lame. I know it.
Aaron’s palms are on my face and he forces my gaze up to him. “I don’t want that, Clarke.”
Staring mutely, I don’t say anything.
He tries to shock me. “I’ve had that. Plenty of it.”
I grimace, my gaze cutting off to the side.
“Goddamn it, Clarke,” he growls. “I want you. I’m with you. What the fuck else do I need to do to make you understand that?”
Sighing, I give him a sheepish smile. “I know. This is just new for me. I’ll acclimate.”
He considers me for a long moment, his eyes boring into mine. I wait for him to say something funny to put me at ease, so we can laugh at my stupidity.
Instead, he just mutters, “I hope so. Because this is my life, and I can’t change it.”
Then he’s tugging me along toward his truck. Opening the door for me as he always does, he helps me climb up into it. When he shuts the door without a word, it stings.
I do believe we’ve had our first argument. I find I hate it more than I hate watching women fawn all over him.
Resolving to apologize, I get sidetracked when my phone starts ringing.
Veronica’s ringtone.
Nabbing my phone as Aaron climbs into the driver’s side, I answer before he shuts the door. I can use the diversion for a minute.
“Hey, Veronica,” I say purposely, so Aaron knows who’s on the phone. He doesn’t even glance my way, just starts the engine and reverses out of the spot we’re in.
“Hey,” she says softly, and I tense at the hesitancy in her voice. She sounds like she’s dreading talking to me, which makes no sense seeing as she’s my best friend.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, which gets Aaron’s attention. He shoots me a quick look, but I stare out the windshield, feeling trepidation creep up my spine.
“Um… there’s something you need to know,” she continues gently. “I know you’re not on social media…”
When her words trail off, nausea starts to bubble in my gut. Damn right I’m not on social media. I can’t stand that shit. Not after I became a viral meme for everyone’s sick amusement.
“Tell me,” I order. Somehow, I know I must have become a viral story again.
“Um…”
“Just tell me,” I yell. Aaron whips his startled gaze my way again as he stomps on the brakes. He jerks the truck into a parking lot, bringing it to a quick stop, but I ignore him.
I clutch hard at the phone as Veronica starts to talk. “Apparently, Aaron posted a picture of you two on Instagram last week. It’s a really great picture, actually… looks like a selfie from when you were on the beach.”
I remember that. It’s the only photo we’d ever taken together selfie-style, and I’d asked him to text it to me. I look at it often because we’re both having so much fun and were deliriously happy that day.
“His post outted you as his girlfriend. Very sweet. And it mentioned your bookstore and the signing.”
I slowly swivel Aaron’s way. He has parked the truck, and he’s watching me worriedly. He has no clue what Veronica is telling me, but he knows I’m starting to get upset.
No wonder so many people came to the bookstore that day, but that doesn’t sound so awful.
“But that’s not the bad part,” Veronica says, and I pinch the bridge of my nose as I feel a massive headache starting.
“What is it?” I mutter, now resigned to the fact I’m going to be in the limelight in a not-so-flattering way again.
“There’s a new meme trending on Instagram and Twitter,” she says, her sorrow she has to tell me about it clear in her voice. “I’ll text it to you. Frankly, it’s not that bad, so I don’t want you to get upset.”
“Text it to me,” I order through gritted teeth before hanging up on my best friend.
“What’s wrong?” Aaron asks cautiously.
I ignore him, immediately moving to my phone’s text icon. A small chime emits, indicating Veronica has sent me the meme.
Swallowing the hard lump in my throat, I tap on the image. Immediately, tears prick at my eyes as I take it in.
It’s a split-frame meme. On the left is the picture from the original meme, the still shot of me when Tripp cut me from the show and I have that God-awful look on my face. Next to it is the picture of Aaron and me with big smiles on our faces. Next to the horrid picture of me, there’s no doubt we project a level of intimacy.
The caption says, “Hey, Tripp… I’ve clearly learned a thing or two since our time together.”
Blinking back the tears, I subconsciously rub at the burning sensation in my chest. I recognize the sting of shame well.
There’s a part of me that can see why Veronica said it’s not all that bad. I mean, I’m all happy and fulfilled next to a gorgeous hockey star who puts Tripp to shame.
But the underlying message is painfully humiliating. The caption stating I’d learned a thing or two does nothing but validate the horrible statement I was an awful virginal lay, which went worldwide.
Deep down, I know none of it is true. I realize it shouldn’t affect me. I should recognize the good in my life, and I should let this shit go.
But I can’t.
I hold my phone out for Aaron to see, then I erupt and let him have it. “Are you happy now? Your social media post has turned me into another meme for people to laugh at.”
It’s dim in the truck, but I can see Aaron’s eyebrows shoot up as he leans toward the phone to see it. Grimacing, he mutters, “Goddamn it. Fuck.”
Jerking the phone back my way, I study it again. A hysterical laugh bubbles out of me, but I snap it off as I stare at the meme. The deluge of emotions hitting me all at once is the most awful thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. A million times worse than the original meme, because I really didn’t have an emotional investment in Tripp.
Not the way I have with Aaron.
It makes the betrayal hurt so much my chest feels like it’s going to cave in on itself.
“I’m so sorry, babe,” Aaron says, reaching a hand out.
I shrink away from him, tucking my phone against my chest and folding my arms around it. “Can you please take me home?” I ask, my voice cracking from the threat of the full-blown sobs aching to pour out of me.
“Clarke,” he murmurs, and the pity in his voice is too much to bear.
“Please,” I beg, turning my wrecked face his way. I know the tears that are starting to leak from my eyes will do more for my cause than any words. “Please just take me home.”