Page 60 of Ripped & Shipped
CHAPTER21
Ella Mae
I stare Chris down,my finger aimed at his face. I don’t need someone man-splaining how stalking escalates or what I need to do to protect myself on social media—especially not a man who just got on Instagram for the first time this week.
“I looked up some stats,” Chris says, talking around my pointer finger, and looking me straight in the eyes.
I study that green around his iris. My gaze drops to those lips. They’re so beautifully carved and defined. Manly lips. Firm, but full. And then I drag my focus to his jawline. He didn’t shave today. He’s still clean-cut. God forbid he’d be disheveled for once. But that slight shadow along his jawline looks like he’s possibly considering growing in a beard. His stubble’s a bit darker than the sandy-blond hair sticking out from under his backwards ball cap.
Why does this man have to be so attractive and simultaneously so infuriating?
Chris continues his infomercial about online predators.
“If an influencer appears to be in a relationship, the incidences of stalking decrease greatly. It’s human nature. Men are less likely to pursue a woman they think is committed to another man.”
“Not every man backs off so easily,” I say shrewdly.
I’ve been around long enough to know. Besides, both Chris and I are well aware of what it’s like to witness the ugly fallout of a love triangle. Some men don’t know when to back off.
Chris stares at me. A world of unspoken understanding passes between us.
“True. Not every man backs off when he should. But an obvious romantic relationship does tend to dissuade guys from pursuing a woman online if they think there’s another guy who might come after them if they do.”
“Your point?”
“You need to give the illusion that you aren’t available.”
“But I am available.”
“An illusion, Ella Mae. You need to convince your followers you are in a relationship so these creeps will back down.”
“And how do you suggest I go about doing that, Soldier?”
I take another sip of water, pretty sure I know where he’s going with this, but needing him to be the one to spell it out.
“You should make it appear like you have a boyfriend.”
“And how will I do that?”
“Have someone pose as your boyfriend. Go on social media together. Post pictures of the two of you that look believably romantic.”
“Did you have someone specifically in mind?”
I stare at him, half sure of what he’ll say, yet doubting he ever would go that far to ensure my safety.
“I’d do it. If you don’t have anyone else in mind.”
I nearly do a spit take of my last sip of water. But somehow, I’m able to keep my drink in my mouth and swallow slowly enough to regain my composure.
Did Chris St. James just say he’d fake being my boyfriend online so that my over-the-top, slightly obsessed followers would chill out?
I pause, holding his gaze. Then I say, “If you want to date me, just ask me out, Big Boy.”
I wink and look over at Chris through my lashes. He’s almost visibly squirming. It’s delectable.
“Is that what it would take?”
He’s dead serious, his face an unreadable mask, except this one little dent over his eyebrow I never noticed before. It makes him look more rugged or stern.
