Page 108 of Ripped & Shipped
“Frisch’s Big Boy?” I joke.
“Ha! No. I have a friend in Columbus. I think you’d like him and his wife. They’re special to me. I’d like them to meet you. Courtney, the wife, well … she’s sort of a fan.”
“A fan of mine?”
“Yeah.” He looks over and smiles at me. “But that’s not why I want you to meet them. I just want you to come. If you want.”
“I’d love to.”
“Great.”
Invited to dinner with his friends. What is even going on here? First the kiss, now this.
Hope, you are a relentless beast.
I turn my focus back to my phone. Comments are coming in on the pictures I just posted.
I scan down and see one from Drake telling me to check my personal messages. I click the message icon at the top of my page and see this message from Drake.
@DrakesDaMan
Saw your post. This is looking serious between you and that guy, EllaMae. Touch base about our plans when you can. I’ve got lots of leads lined up for you. You can contact Genesis, or even reach out to me directly.
I don’t offer that to everyone, but after our collab, I feel like we’ve got a connection, so you get special access to me.
I don’t say anything to Chris. He’s not a fan of Drake’s, and I know how Chris feels about me traveling out to L.A. to attend the bash. I return to the post and scroll more comments.
People comment on how cute we are, how beautiful I look in my dress, some are raving about Cincinnati. Then I see it. A comment from ImSOBeefy.
@ImSOBeefy:
Babe, you look beautiful. You need to call it quits with that guy. I’d treat you so much better.
“What’s wrong?” Chris asks.
“What?”
“What’s wrong? You look troubled.”
“How do you know how I look? You’re driving.”
“I was watching you for a second. And you look like something upset you. Did it?”
“That guy, ImSOBeefy, left a comment on my post from our weekend.”
“What did he say?”
I read Chris the comment. He’s quiet. An eerie silence hangs in the air while he grinds his molars and grips the steering wheel with white knuckles.
“Hang on,” Chris finally says.
Then he takes the next off ramp and pulls over onto the dirt that runs alongside this country road that seems to lead nowhere.
Chris pulls out his cell. I watch him scroll and then type.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m commenting on your post.”
