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“Show me,” he commands. “Don’t tell me what I can and cannot fix.”
I shake my head and thrust my phone in his direction.
He looks at it. “Unlock it.”
I shake my head and lean forward, grabbing the phone from him. I unlock it and hand it back. “Here, look at this.”
He takes the phone from me and stares down at my Instagram comments. Not even twenty minutes after I posted the video of Derek and I, the nasty comments started pouring in. He reads them and shakes his head.
Some of them are surprised to see him there. There are some encouraging ones, so I’ll give my fans that. But the ones that are causing the tears are the ones that make me wish I could take the video down. But I can’t. It’s the cowards way out. I just need to get a thicker skin. A thicker skin against things like:
Who does she think she is?
Why is Derek working out with her?
Serena’s body is way better than hers. What does Derek see in her?
Why did she feel the need to post that he’s her friend? Like someone like Derek would ever be interested in her.
Okay, Exercise Barbie, stay away from Serena’s man.
“Those little bitches. How fucking dare they.” He’s seething, his jaw clenched. There are words on the tip of his tongue—I can tell by the way his mouth keeps opening and closing. But he doesn’t say a word.
I grab the phone from him before he can.
“Can you delete them?” he asks. “Or reply and set the fucking record straight?”
The last thing out of his mouth shocks me to my very core. “What do you mean set the record straight?”
He pulls me to him. My face is buried in his chest while he strokes my back. “You could tell them that Serena doesn’t hold a candle to you. Or that I’m not Serena’s. Better yet, I could do it.”
I shake my head. “No, this happens every once in a while. It happened the last time I let Aiden on my story. I should have learned from that, but I thought it would be harmless.”
I look up and he’s watching the story. It’s replayed at least twice by now. “I like that you used a Crave song for this. It looks really cool.”
“Thanks,” I say meekly. At this point, I couldn’t care less that he’s impressed with my editing and filming skills. “I should have turned the comments off, learned from the last time that I put something like this up.”
“You shouldn’t have to censor yourself to make them feel good about themselves.”
“I know, I know.” I shake my head. “It’s stupid that I’m so upset over it. It’s not like they know anything about me.”
“They know nothing about you. They only know the you that you should show. They have no idea how big your heart is. Sure, they can see this amazing body, but they have no idea how amazing it is when that gorgeous smile is pointed at them.”
“You’re sweet. It’s a good thing you’re a songwriter.”
I get up and walk to the rail. I’m being silly. I know that I am. I just hate that all the things that have lurked in my head are now splashed on my social media.
“I’m not bullshitting you, Aud.” He comes over to the railing and puts his arm around me.
“Where’s your hat? Shouldn’t you be making sure that no one can see you?”
“Private beach,” he spits out. “What would you like me to do, Audrey? Do you want me to hop into the comments section and defend the shit out of you? Do you want me to have the band’s agent send out a press release saying that you’re just a childhood best friend and to leave you the fuck alone? I mean she could, but she’d be lying. You’re more than that.”
“I’m being stupid.”
“No, you’re just new at dealing with this shit. Believe me, I’ve dealt with it for a few years now. The best thing you can do is live your life and stay out of the comments section. That, and apply some alcohol to the situation, because it tends to help you forget why you were so upset in the first place.”
I nod and look over to find him smiling.
