Page 70 of The Fake Husband Play
Parker nods. “Yeah, that’s what I told Avery. I was like, this guy isn’t some lovesick poet looking for a muse. He’s a guy I’ve known for a long time. He’s steady, chill, and seems to manage fine without a special lady in his life.”
I smile. “Thanks, man. I appreciate that.”
“Anytime,” he says, before adding pointedly, “Except before ten a.m. on a Saturday morning.”
I laugh as I nod. “Got it. So, what did she say to that? Is there a chance I’m not imagining things?”
Parker shrugs. “I mean, honestly, she didn’t seem very optimistic. But you have to remember where she’s coming from. She’s a pricy shrink. She doesn’t encounter a lot of couples who are living happily ever after. People who fall in love at first sight and make it work don’t need therapy that starts at three hundred an hour.” He takes another sip of his cortado before tipping his head to one side. “So maybe we take her opinion with a grain of salt, you two crazy kids keep falling in love, and we just…see what happens.”
I study him for a beat, surprised.
Catching my vibe, he rolls his eyes. “Okay, yeah, fine, I’m secretly a romantic son of a bitch. Don’t we all dream about finding that one person who’s perfect for us? And it’s just easy and right and good? And if you’ve found her, I mean…” He shrugs again. “Even if it’s kind of strange, I’m happy for you. I want good things for you, Graves.”
I nod, sensing Parker and I are going to be closer from here on out. “Thanks, man. I appreciate that. I want the same?—”
“Okay, so you reallyareGrammercy Graves,” a voice blurts from behind me. “I heard him say your last name, so…”
We both turn to see a girl who can’t be older than nineteen rising from a table a few seats over, clutching her purple phone in one hand. She’s peak alternative college kid, complete with oversized band tee from a group that broke up before any of us were born, frayed black shorts, and combat boots.
“Yeah, I am,” I confirm, glancing Parker’s way. “And this is Leo Parker. We both play for the Voodoo. So, if you want a selfie or an autograph, we?—”
“Oh, God, no. Gross,” she says with a laugh. Before I can regroup, she adds, “Sorry, but yeah, no, I don’t want an autograph. I just wanted to say that you were cool in that video. The way you handled that drunk fucker without going full toxic masculine was solid. Keep up the good work, man.”
Parker and I exchange glances. Video?
What the hell is she talking about?
Mistaking our confusion for annoyance, she adds, “Sorry to interrupt. I just think it’s important to point itout when men arenotbehaving badly, you know. Like, positive reinforcement, or whatever.”
I shake my head. “No, you didn’t, I just… What video? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her eyes go anime-character wide. “Oh, shit, no way! You haven’t seen it? That’s wild. It’s like…everywhere. Just a second. Hold on.” She taps at her phone, grinning like she’s looking forward to being the one to clue me in. “My women’s liberation teacher shared it with our class Slack channel this morning. Like, as a way of keeping our spirits up after— Here it is!”
She flips her phone around. I lean in, and there I am.
It’s from last night. The convent entrance. On the tiny screen, I watch Brad sway way too close to Elly, babbling the abusive shit that made my head feel like it was about to explode. And then, through the tinny phone speaker, I suddenly drawl in a sinister voice that isn’t like me, “Excuse me, friend, but you’re standing too close to my wife.”
My stomach drops, and my tongue cramps at the back of my throat.
The video cuts off right after that, but the damage is done. The caption below it reads, “NHL Voodoo player, Grammercy Graves, shows frat douche how real men treat a woman . R.I.P my ovaries,” and the comments are…numerous.
“See? You did good,” the girl says, chucking me on the shoulder with a fist. “Totalpositivemasculinity, you know?”
“Yeah,” I mutter.
But I do not know. I know absolutely nothing right now except that sometime in the past fourteen hours, I’ve become internet famous and didn’t even know it.
“How many views does that have?” Parker asks, leaning over my shoulder.
The girl glances down. “Um, this version, like…three million? But your team account shared it, too.” She frowns as she glances between us. “You guys should set up an alert for your names on your phones.”
Shit. My phone.
I’m pretty sure it’s still on silent from before I went into the jazz club last night. I was so distracted by everything going on with me and Elly, I don’t think I ever turned it back on.
“Excuse me, I need to…” I stumble toward the counter, the only place where people aren’t staring. “I should probably?—”
I pull out my phone, and the screen lights up like a slot machine hitting a jackpot.
