Page 97 of The Friend Scheme
I’m lying on my bed, stalking Jason’s social media on my phone. His Facebook was easy to find, once I had his Instagram. He uses Jason Todd as a name there, too. His likes includeAttack on Titan,Avatar: The Last Airbender, andShe-Ra. I love that they’re there, I’m obsessed with all three.
Obviously.
I’m not even surprised when we like the same thing anymore.
I load his Instagram for what feels like the millionth time and scroll down. He’s posted a bunch of cute selfies of him just goingabout his life, mixed in with staged-looking ones of him hanging out with his friends, often at the beach, or at this cute coffee shop he seems to go to a lot. It has a wall of dog photos. My favorite of his photos is one of him at Harry Potter world, freaking out over Butterbeer. Impossibly cute.
Still, it feels very staged to me. I prefer Instagram to feel a little more real.
But, hey, what do I know? He gets a lot more likes than I do.
There are two shirtless photos of him. One is at a pool party, but he’s holding an inflatable duck in front of him, so I can’t see much. It’s still really cute, though, because his smile looks so genuine… like he’s giddy levels of happy.
He’s the cutest boy ever.
The other is on a gorgeous beach in Thailand. He’s emerging from the water, dripping wet, staring at something off camera. No smile. Dead serious. It’stotallya thirst trap, and I’m here for it. His followers are, too, it seems like everyone he knows commented on how hot he is. I read a few of the comments.
GET IT BUDDY!
*fire emoji fire emoji fire emoji*
THOSE ABS THO! MURDER ME.
I tap, scroll up, and see the follow button.
My heart racing, I jab it.
I leave my room to go to Dad’s. I reach it and knock on the door.
“Hey,” I say. “Can I come in?”
Dad mutters something, which I take as a yes.
I step inside. He’s got his reading glasses on, and his computer is on his lap.
“Why are you up so late?” he asks.
I mean, I do stay up late a lot. But most of the time I just hide in my room. Being out here, trying to get his attention, is weird and he knows it.
“I wanted to talk to you, if you have a sec?”
“Go on.”
I know he’s recovering, so I shouldn’t be too harsh, but he looksold. There are big bags under his eyes, and his hair isn’t as perfectly kept as it normally is. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s messy, because it’s not, but you know…
It’s not as perfect as I’m used to.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Fine. What did you want to tell me? I’m working, so make it quick.”
“Well, I was hanging out with Cassidy earlier, and she…”
“Cassidy Strickland?”
“Yeah.”
“When did this start?”
