I had a suspicious number of thumbs-downs, but I didn’t dare wander into the comments. People were clicking; that’s all the advertisers cared about. After I closed YouTube, I went over to Twitter.
@MacyAtTheMovies: Thank you all so much for the support you’ve given my videos. It really feels like a fairy tale come true #blessed
Yuck. I’d officially become one of those people who hashtagged blessed. I wanted to punch myself in the face. But if this got me more subscribers, then fine. I’d do whatever it took to get to Chicago, even if I had to #bless my ass across the Internet.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
AFTER THE LAST RUSH of locals had left, gossiping about me in the Comedy aisle like I couldn’t hear them right there at the counter, a shadow fell over me. I glanced up to find Paxton’s mouth set in a grim line. I locked my phone and placed it on the counter. Even though I hadn’t been doing anything wrong, a snaking line of guilt curled around my stomach.
“You’re tweeting,” he said. Not a question. He’d seen my fingers tapping against my screen.
His flat tone had me straightening my spine. “So?”
“Why are you getting involved?” He words were laced with simmering anger, not at me, but at my phone resting on the counter. “Did you like strangers showing up at your house? Do you enjoy being torn apart for sport?”
“What do you know about it?” My voice quiet. A gentle, probing question. The closest I’d ever come to pushing him or asking him about why he avoided social media.
The light that always seemed to surround him died out, taking him someplace else. And that place wasn’t kind. “I know more than you can imagine.” I had a snapping retort on the tip of my tongue, but he continued before I could speak. “I’m not trying to be a bossy asshole or tell you what to do. I’m trying to warn you.”
I lifted my chin. “I don’t need saving.”
“I never said you did.” He gave me a half grin, nodding to the counter, directly above the shelf where we kept the wrench. “Just … be careful about how much you give them.”
“I always am.” Until now. Until Jessica Banks had made it impossible for me to separate myself from Misty Morning and R3ntal Wor1d.
Paxton went back across the store and I reopened my Twitter app. The bell dinged above the door, and Fanny Vanderlugt walked in smelling like cinnamon and sugar toast and waved at me. She picked up Die Hard for her husband and Die Hard 2 for herself, bringing them both to the register. As one of the handful of people in town who still had a VCR, she always grumbled in the summer when tourists took all the good movies.
“That’ll be five dollars even,” I said.
She tilted her head. “You sure about that? I got two movies there.”
“I know. Second one is on the house.” I winked at her. “Thanks for the bread the other day. It was delicious. We ate the whole loaf in one sitting.”
“You’re a good girl.” She patted my hand. “Beatrice Combs was clucking her chicken-shaped head off about that baseball business the other day, but I told her to shut it. I told her there is no way Gracie Evans’s daughter would ever disgrace her like that.” She gave me a look that suggested it was more of a question than a statement.
“No, ma’am,” I said to the floor. “I didn’t go into the bathroom with that boy.”
“I knew you wouldn’t.” I tried to ignore the way her entire body relaxed, like she’d believed it. Whether or not she’d wanted to, whether or not she’d told Beatrice Combs to shut her mouth, she had believed I’d gone into that bathroom with Eric.
Speculation would only increase with our upcoming date. It also kept the clicks coming. I couldn’t have it both ways, and I’d chosen my path, but it still hurt.
After Fanny left with her movies, I rested my chin in my hands. We only had another hour until close, but that last hour of work was like three. I swiveled my stool back and forth. The bell dinged, and Elise came in.
“Hey, loser,” I said. “Don’t people usually spend their off shifts away from work?”
“Hey, hypocrite. You’re just mad I’m not here to see you,” Elise said. “Momma wanted me to drop off Midnight’s tamale order, then I’ll be on my way.” Momma Gomez ran a second business selling tamales out of her kitchen, the only plus of living in a town that was basically a corn ocean. She had back orders for weeks. She and Gram had a long-standing barter arrangement going back before Elise and I were born, and tamales accounted for a tenth of our diets. No complaints.
As soon as Elise disappeared into the closet/break room, Paxton wandered back over to my counter. “I noticed we both have Wednesday off,” he said.
“We do.” I had a date with Eric that night. Our first public appearance as an—air quotes—couple. “Have any plans?”
He shuffled his feet, not meeting my gaze. “I was kind of hoping we could hang out.”
“You want to hang out with me?” Date. Date. Date with Eric. My boyfriend for all intents and purposes, if those intents and purposes included helping ourselves to blog hits and subscribers. “Why do you want to hang out with me?” I squeaked as Elise came out of Midnight’s office and looked us both over with a slow grin.
“A day without my favorite cashier is like a day without magic.” Paxton gave me a half smile, that gentle humor I adored radiating from him like unfiltered sunshine.
I rested my elbows on the counter and cupped my face with my hands. “A day without my favorite repair guy is like a day I’m forced to switch bodies with my mom to learn the true meaning of selfless love.”
He leaned against the register. “A day without you is like a day I’m forced to hang out in the ice-cold Atlantic because someone is too greedy to share that big-ass door.”
My cheeks hurt from grinning so hard as I spun my stool from side to side.
Elise threw her hands up. “Would you two just get a room already?”
“What room?” Paxton looked around and pointed at the floor. “This room?”
“This room is nice,” I said.
“Forget it,” Elise grumbled, and stomped toward the exit.
“Is this not a good room?” The pure innocence in Paxton’s tone had me stifling a laugh. “Do you want to help us pick out a better room?”
“I hate you both!” Elise yelled on her way out.
“She’ll be fuming all day tomorrow,” I said.
“Good.” The mischief in Paxton’s eyes dimmed as he ran his finger over a small dent in the counter. “So, uh, do you want to? Hang out?”
“Oh. Um.” I did. I really did. But Eric. Future. Subscribers. Ugh. “Normally, yes. But I kind of have a thing. A previous obligation.” Was I supposed to tell him about my not-date? It wouldn’t exactly be a secret, but I didn’t want to get into it. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Sure, no problem.” Paxton pushed off from the counter like everything was fine, but the light in his eyes had dimmed. “Maybe some other time.”
I knew how those “other times” usually went. Might as well have been code for “never.” Little prickles of regret poked at my heart, but I hardened myself against them. This thing I was doing with Eric was bigger than a date. Everything I’d been working toward depended on the believability of our ruse.