Page 11 of Beneath the Fame

I shrugged. “Harmless fun.”

Reid nodded. “I agree, I’m just saying…it was different for you. Got a lot of people talking.”

I shook my head.

Yeah.

Thatit did.

I’d seen the shitty comments,wayworse than what I was used to. I often caught all kinds of insults—robot, fake, corny, assumptions about my supposedly secret sexuality, a whole conspiracy theory that I had a secret dungeon under my house, just…a whole mosaic of bullshit.

And none of it really touched the ugliness being launched at Vanessa, for daring to be someone I was attracted to.

It was a bit insane.

More than a bit.

It was ludicrous.

She shrugged it off like it was nothing—apologizedto mefor having to see it. Really though, I was the one who should—and did—feel bad.

Sure, I was just being honest, but I hadn’t considered what my honesty would bring to her lap.

No wondershe played off every flirting attempt I made.

She wasn’t immune to the public’s perception of me, so I was sure that had something to do with it too. But if even the loosest implication of being romantically tied to me had the internet at her throat, calling her names, bringing up her past, critiquing every song lyric or outfit choice as evidence of “unworthiness…”

Shit, I’d avoid going there with me too.

It didn’t makemewantherany less, though.

And not evenonlyon a superficial level.

True, she wasexactlyas bad in person as she was in pictures, and she definitely wasn’t a “catfish,” and real life didn’t have filters. I’d seen her fresh on set in the morning, just her clean face and a ponytail, and she was still fuckingbeautiful.

Anybody could see that, though.

What they couldn’t see was the sense of humor, the intelligence, the dedication to the craft. This wasn’t some one-off thing for her, something she was doing just to build out accolades.

She was committed to the show, to her role.

And she was damn good at it too.

“That’s all it is—talk,” I said, finally responding to Reid’s observation. “You know how people love that.”

Reid smirked. “She must not be taking you serious?”

“Not even a little.” I laughed, shaking my head as my security approached to give me a heads up about the time.

Even when I sometimes wanted to stay longer, it was better to keep the schedule tight—less chance of something going wrong. Once, social media had caught wind that I was here, and it turned into a whole ordeal of fans showing up for autographs, completely overshadowing my actual intentions.

Neveragain.

I called the boys in from where they’d switched to sprint practice, and they all gathered around, panting. As much as I’d been in my own head, I’d still been paying attention, enough to give each one a bit of feedback on their performance. When I was done with that, and passing out snacks, the conversation changed.

“Ay, Big Alec—Spillin’ That Hot Teasays you’re busting down Vanity—that’s true or nah?” one of the kids asked, sending a chorus of similar curiosity through the whole group. They were all well into their teens, high school juniors and seniors, so I had no qualms about replying the way I did, with?—

“That ain’t none of y’all’s fucking business.” I laughed. “But to clear it up, nah, it’s not like that. Stop believing everything you see on the blogs.”

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