Page 34 of Ripped & Shipped
“Chris … St. James?”
“The one and only. Of all people.”
Meg looks stunned. But then she gives me this inquisitive stare.
“It was crazy. Chris walked up to my table. And … Well, long story short, he did the live with me.”
“Chris St. James?”
“Mm hmm.”
“Did a live? With you? On Insta?”
“Yep.”
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean, am I sure? I’m sure. I think I’d know if someone did a live with me. Check my account. It’s up there.”
Meg picks up her phone, taps the app, and pulls up my account. Her mouth literally pops open as she watches the beginning of me and Chris at dinner. I haven’t even rewatched it, so I sit down next to her.
“Keep watching. You may as well.”
“Okay. Just … wow. I’m speechless. Chris St. James filmed with you.”
Meg shakes her head in disbelief and pushes play. The two of us sit through the announcement, the clip of me and Chris eating, and the rest of the night through the part where I film Shawna and then say goodbye to my peeps for the night.
The comments are still flowing in, over one hour after we finished filming.
I think about Chris. If he drove straight back to Bordeaux, he’s only two blocks away from us right this minute. He’s settling into his home, just like I’m settling into mine. I wonder what thoughts he’s having about tonight, or if he’s even giving it a second thought at all.
It’s so surreal. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened over the past four hours. It almost feels like a dream. I get why Meg just questioned me.
Meg looks over at me. “So, what does this mean? Are you two, like, friends?”
“No.” I shake my head. “We’re not friends. We had a sweet night. He was able to flex that hero complex of his, but at the end of the day, we’re still who we are. I bet he won’t even talk to me in public here in town.”
I’m actually fine with that. Chris got me out of a pinch. He doesn’t owe me anything. And considering all the facts of our life here, and what’s gone down in the history books, there’s no reason we would ever be anything but what we were before this little blip of an event.
“You think he’s going to ignore you?”
“Hasn’t he always?”
“He’s a reserved person. I don’t know if it’s personal just to you. He only gives me one of those dude head tips when he sees me. He’s not super-chatty to anyone.”
“Sorry. You’re probably guilty by association—by being my roommate. I’ve seen him be kind, and even talkative to other people.”
I think of tonight. Chris seemed to genuinely care about what I was going through. He stepped in voluntarily. Yes. That’s his default mode. Damsel in distress? Soldier to the rescue! But it felt like more at times. Like he was actually enjoying himself. And like he wanted to be there—with me.
“Well, to be fair …” Meg trails off, a look of apology in her eyes.
“What?”
“You do often have the phone camera aimed in his direction.”
“Can you blame me? He’s pure eye candy. My fans love when I show off local guys. Chris is massive, and super-attractive—objectively speaking. Plus, he’s got that whole mysterious, broody thing going for him. Women lap that up like a kitten at a bowl of milk. You should see my feed. At least five hundred comments of my over twelve hundred on that live are about him. And that was just the total the last time I checked.
“Everyone’s saying things like,Who’s the hottie?andI ship the two of you!Some people even said,Forget Drake, go for Chris. Guys who follow me are not just commenting on me, like they often do. They’re asking Chris for workout and nutrition tips. He could probably start his own account and go viral tomorrow.”
