Page 52 of Not Your Valentine
Icy fear creeps up my spine.
A few minutes later, after some frantic googling, I discover that someone has written an “article” for the one-year anniversary of that video—one of those articles that mainly quotes social media posts. And this person has linked to my new Instagram account, the one whose settings I foolishly changed to “public” not long after I began fake dating Taylor. Why did I do that? After all, the main people I wanted to fool are family and friends, not strangers online. Still, I’m surprised that the writer found my Instagram so easily.
I immediately change my account back to “private” and start deleting the comments. But I can’t delete the comments on the article; I can’t completely control this.
Someone says that my new boyfriend isn’t as attractive as the last one. Many people disagree; others say physically, that might be true, but the last one was an asshole, which isn’t a very attractive quality in a man. Of course, some people disagree with that, saying many women like assholes.
This turns into a conversation about the sexual attractiveness of Asian men, analyzing Taylor vs. Charlie vs. various Asian movie and TV stars. Since it’s the internet, of course people make weird judgments about Taylor.
I hope he hasn’t seen it. If he has, I hope it hasn’t made all of the pain from his past resurface.
Oh God. I can’t believe I dragged him into this.
He’s so incredibly sweet. Despite the crap he’s gone through with his family, he’s still managed to remain that way. He doesn’t deserve this. All these people who are insulting him? I wish I could stab them with a vegetable peeler. Since I can’t do that, I pull the half-finished bottle of wine out of the fridge and pour myself another glass.
My phone buzzes, and I’m so on edge that I nearly shriek. It’s Shirley, and the instant I see her name, I’m convinced that she’s figured out my ruse with Skylar and Quentin’s help, and I’ll have to explain everything to her. I’m not in the mood for that, on top of everything else—it’s too overwhelming.
But then I read the text. My sister just saw all the comments on my Instagram and wanted to check up on me. I exhale shakily as I type a response, then lean against the fridge and gulp my wine. This is such a mess. I’m such a mess.
Fucking Valentine’s Day.
Chapter 17
By Thursday evening, I’ve recovered from the online attention. Sort of. I’m trying to be thankful that it’s not as bad as last year, and nobody in the lab mentioned it, but I still feel agitated.
I’m frying some rice for dinner when my phone rings. I have an actual call, not just a text message, and unlike usual, I don’t immediately swear…because what if it’s Taylor?
Still, when I look at the display and see that it is Taylor, it’s a bit of a shock.
I turn off the stove and answer. “Hey, what’s up? How was your day at work?”
“It was…not great, actually. Funding cuts—”
“Are you worried about your job?”
“No, but it’ll affect the services I refer patients to. They need more funding, not less. Also had to deal with a crisis this afternoon.”
He doesn’t elaborate, and just as I’m debating whether I should inquire further—and whether to ask if he’s read the article on the video and the comments—he says, “I’m busy this weekend, but how about we have a date the following Friday?”
He’s acting like we’re just going to continue our fake relationship as usual. I can’t bear it.
“We don’t need to go on another date,” I say.
“Are you sure? You don’t want it to look like we broke up right after Valentine’s—”
“It won’t. I’ll post some pictures and tag you, but we don’t need to actually do anything together.” I try to sound like this is all no big deal.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “I noticed that people are sharing the video again, and there was an article…”
Dammit. He saw that.
“The comments about you,” I say, “they felt so intrusive.” He sounds concerned about me, but I’m more concerned about him. “I’m sorry. Don’t listen to those people.”
“It’s not like you made those comments.”
“No, but it was my fake-relationship scheme that got you into this, and I was silly enough to make my Instagram account public. I should have learned my lesson last year. We don’t need to—”
“I’m not going to abandon you now. I’m not Charlie.”
