Page 123 of Ripped & Shipped
“Now what’s that face?” Meg asks.
“What face?”
“The one that looks like you just saw Pennywise scream,Egg Boy!in the movieIt.”
“You know I don’t watch thrillers.”
“Well, you look like you saw a killer clown.”
“Shouting about eggs?” I ask.
“Back to you. What’s that face?”
I take a sip of my smoothie. Do I really want to share my overthinking spiral? It’s probably best if I do.
“It’s just … things like this don’t happen to me. And they don’t last.”
“Things like a man falling for you?”
“Online, maybe. In real life, yeah. They don’t.”
“Well, I don’t know why they haven’t happened to you. But I’m here to testify that Chris looks at you with something like heart-eye emoji eyes.”
I think of Chris. The way he looks at me has all the warmth rising up in my body again.
“There you go,” Meg says, obviously satisfied that she’s banished my fears—at least for now. “Much better. Stay in that dreamy place. And squeeze those biceps for me when you can. Just once. Grab hold of those giant arms and think to yourself,This one’s for Meg.”
“Not happening.”
“Awww.”
“But thanks,” I say. “I needed that pep talk.”
I walk around the island and give her a hug.
After Meg leaves for work, I check my comments and see the one from ImSOBeefy. Gross. That guy is really out of line. I want to block him, but Chris assures me they’re watching him. He says keeping ImSOBeefy in my feed gives him and Aiden a better way to track him.
I run out to the grocery after filming two live videos: one of me doing yoga, and another of me sharing my top five beauty hacks.
Heads turn at every aisle. People whisper. When I get to the cash register, the middle-aged checkout woman says, “You and Chris St. James, huh?”
“Yep,” I say.
I’m being friendly, even though my nerves are frayed from being the not-so-subtle subject of town gossip.
“I thought he’d find himself someone more …”
I wait.
She doesn’t finish.
I cross my arms.
She just says, “Well, congrats. Whatever you did to catch him, you obviously have him under your charms.”
I don’t dignify her with an answer. At least she said it to my face. Most people don’t even have the decency to do that.
I load my groceries and head home like the troll needing to curl up under his bridge. Only, I think trolls are mean. Maybe they aren’t. It could be they’re just misunderstood and mistreated. Maybe that troll was the brunt of one too many whispered insults, or was left out of yet another social function. Poor troll. No wonder he resorted to eating anyone who crossed his bridge. A person can only take so much.
