“I know exactly what we could do,” I say. Esben lifts his mouth to mine, but just before we kiss, I stop him with a smile. “I want to go on Facebook and Twitter and Instagram and all that.”
He laughs. “You do?”
I nod. “I do. I’m ready. And I think it would be fun.”
“It would be fun. We can send each other dirty tweets and drive our followers mad.”
“Then I definitely want to do this. Will you help me?”
“Right now?” he asks and traces the line of my V-neck.
“Yup. And I’ll thank you for it after the art show.” I’m totally taking my dress off tonight.
“Deal.” I nearly fall off his lap, because he’s whipped us around to face the screen so damn fast.
I sit on the bed while he navigates social-media sites and fires questions at me. I didn’t realize there was so much that went into these things, that it’s more than just passwords and profile pictures. He knows all the ins and outs of privacy and posting settings, and he gives me a brief tutorial on the basics of how these sites work. Then he takes my phone, downloads the apps, and logs me in. Apparently, I motivated him to work at the speed of light.
“There. And I’m your first follower on Twitter,” he says happily. “Since you have exactly zero pictures of you stored on your phone, I’ll take one. Now, sit there, and keep being that sexy.”
I blush, but face the camera.
“And while you’re the only person I know who doesn’t have a million selfies, I do like that you saved a screenshot of the text I sent you.” Before I can say anything, there are a few clicks, then he lowers the phone. “God, you are so beautiful.”
“Esben...”
“You are. Look.” He crawls onto the bed and shows me the photo he’s taken.
“You’ve got, like, a million filters on it.”
He shakes his head. “Not a one. Now, let’s get you some followers, okay?”
“Oh. I guess so.”
Esben begins typing on his phone, and, a minute later, my own phone dings. It’s some kind of Twitter alert.
“Apparently, I’ve been mentioned.” I send him a fake-confused look. “I wonder who could have done that?” I tap the alert and am taken to my new Twitter page.
You all remember #allison, yes? Let me reintroduce you. Meet #girlfriendallison. She’s new to Twitter, so let’s give her a warm welcome. And coffee. She loves coffee.
I watch, stunned, as his tweet gets favorited and reposted over and over. And it takes only seconds for my followers to grow from this one tweet. I’m still blinking at my phone as Esben pulls me out the door.
“We gotta go,” he says, laughing.
“Why are all these people following me? I haven’t done anything.”
He shrugs and zips my coat while I continue to stare at my feed. “Guilt by association, baby.”
Esben guides me to the art gallery across campus, his hand at my elbow, because I cannot stop staring at my phone. “I have three hundred followers on Twitter. It’s been ten minutes!” I tap the screen. “And...like, a zillion friend requests on Facebook! And lots of pictures of coffee... what do I do? Am I supposed to do something? Post?”
“God, you’re cute.” He catches me as I stumble over a curb. “Take some pictures tonight. I’ll help you post some stuff later, if you want.”
As we walk into the gallery, I put my phone away. It seems silly, but I’m kind of giddy over my newfound social-media presence.
The gallery is beautiful, and I had no idea this was here. Of course, if I’d left my room more, or done anything besides study for the past two years, I might have known about this. Floating stairs lead us up to the main floor, and we are met with spectacular lighting that manages to highlight the artwork but also make the space pretty sexy and romantic, although I’m not sure it’s supposed to be. My interpretation could perhaps have something to do with my mood...
“There she is.” Esben points at Kerry, across the room, talking to someone. “I’m so excited. I’ve only seen one of the pieces she’s been working on, but she’s really, really good. This is the juniors’ and seniors’ stuff only. It’s a big piece of their grade for the semester.”
He catches Kerry’s attention and waves. She’s in stiletto heels and a tight red sheath dress that shows her beautiful figure and plenty of cleavage, and she’s got her hair pulled off her face. I would last two steps in those shoes, but she walks without the slightest wobble when she comes our way. “You came!” She throws out her arms and hugs me.
