Page 3 of Unexpected Company
Putting on a show for my fans, I smile at the camera as I enter the ramp and then launch myself off the end, trying to get my legs under me to make the perfect landing.
“Fuuuck,” I yell when my skates hit the ice at speed and my leg buckles beneath me, bringing me butt first onto the cold, wet ice.
I try not to curse on video. My channel – Do you dare, Supernova? – isn’t aimed at kids, but everyone in my industry knows that young children are accessing these sorts of videos online. It’s why I add a disclaimer before every clip.
Don’t try this at home.The stars of these videos have undergone extensive health and safety training.
That last part is bullshit that Liam insisted we add. I don’t think we’d know health and safety if it knocked us in our pretty faces.
Dampness soaks through the fabric of my blue leggings and I grumble when Liam skates over to me, looking like a fucking professional figure skater with all his confidence.
“And that’s not how it’s done,” he says sarcastically. “Interesting landing there, Ro.” Liam offers me a hand and I take it, fumbling to my feet and leaning against him as he turns the camera towards the two of us.
“Thank you SlowJam77 for your dare. I can safely say that I never want to take part in an ice skating obstacle course again.” I make an exaggerated pout while Liam ruffles my already unruly hair and asks the viewers to like and subscribe before shutting off the camera.
“You failed that epically,” Liam says, his hand on my arm as he guides me past the huge Christmas tree adorned with baubles, to the edge of the rink where the staff are watching on with amusement.
When we’re leaning against the safety of the wall, he twists me to face him, a hand on each of my shoulders.
“Kudos for not chickening out and despite the fail, I have big news.”
I raise an eyebrow, and he does a drum roll with his hand against the barrier.
“You hit 40 million followers!”
No.
Fucking.
Way.
I throw my arms around his neck and plant a kiss on his cheek, hugging him tightly to me.
“You’re serious?”
“Deadly.”
I squeal in the most dignified way a twenty-three-year-old social media star can and kiss my friend’s cheek again.
“Well, the ache in my ass – not the kind I like, mind you – was so worth it!”
When I was nineteen, I started making challenge videos which I posted online to my channel. They were silly little three-minute clips, like seeing how long I could stay underwater or how many chicken nuggets I could eat in twenty-four hours.
The videos weren’t popular at first, but then, when I was twenty-one, a video I made of me being dared to compliment random strangers on a busy London street went viral and my follower count skyrocketed overnight. Now, I receive over five hundred dares a week.
It’s a fucking epic way to earn a living.
“Let’s get out of here and celebrate,” Liam suggests as we sit on a bench and remove our skates. My teeth chatter when I move, cold air brushing the wet fabric of my leggings.
“It’s only lunchtime,” I reply, sliding on my trainers. “And I could really do with a hot shower.”
Liam wraps an arm around my neck and pulls me into a side hug. “One drink. How often can you celebrate having forty-million followers?”
He has a point.
Standing, I pick up my coat and wrap it around myself, holding out a hand for him in the same way he did for me earlier.
“Fuck it, lead the way.”
