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My heart stalled as thewillowsheart611screenname jumped out at me.
“Dammit.”
My first instinct was to delete the reply, but that only made them post again. And then their making a big deal about me deleting their replies had turned into a witch hunt in the comments. People loved adding their two cents when it came to internet outrage until my post had a thread one hundred replies deep with people raging about perceived slights.
Soon, it had been a mindless stream of hateful diatribes that got so twisted I had to hide or delete them. I’d lost count of how many times I’d blocked this particular person. I had a feeling it was a dude, but I couldn’t be sure. Regardless, they always came back with a new screenname.
One that was suspiciously close to the last one.
They probably had made a bunch of them at once to have them on hand. Okay, perhaps I was being paranoid, but I’d been through the fixation game a time or two.
Once in person.
I wiped my suddenly clammy palm against my thigh. No, we weren’t going to go there. That had happened a damn long time ago and he couldn’t hurt me anymore.
Couldn’tfindme anymore.
I slammed the box closed on that little trip into my past.
This was a totally different thing. Just a minor annoyance. I wasn’t special in this regard. Anyone with a successful channel had these problems. Just one of the downsides of fame.
Or perceived fame. The internet helped make people hot and just as quickly, fall into the not column. I was focused on staying in the former category.
“You can do it. Just get it over with,” I muttered to myself. My heart rate slowed. Okay, that one wasn’t bad.
willowsheart611:Your beauty is only second to your amazing culinary genius.
Much like the replies they’d first made. Back when I’d thought that person had been harmless, if a little odd.
I scrolled on by it and dropped a heart on a few other ones. Replied with a few links to previous videos for people asking questions. In a perfect world, people would look at my feed, but then again, I’d learned neon arrows were the preferred path.
People were fucking lazy.
I glanced at the time and swore. Now I only had forty-five minutes to get my video done. Quickly, I checked my makeup and hair in the skinny mirror we’d crammed in the corner of the living room. I’d let my hair do the curly thing today, but it was getting hot with the lights.
“Screw it.” I twisted up the long, thick strands and secured it into a messy bun. Vanity only worked when the effect was actually cute.
After rushing back to the kitchen, I found my remote under my recipe notebook and turned on the camera.
I flashed a grin directly into the lens. “Ready to do this choux thing? I think you are. No, you know what? Iknowyou are. We can totally do this.” I pulled the eggs in front of me. “Handily, I don’t have Paul Hollywood staring at me as I figure this out.” I nibbled my lip and let the smile spread. “He really is a silver fox, isn’t he? Whew! Do you have a favorite chef—other than me, hello! Throw your thoughts in the comments.”
I went through the steps of making the pastry. This time, it actually looked as it should.
“Okay, I know this seems like a lot of eggs, but trust me…when you stuff one of these suckers in your mouth hole, you won’t care.”
I was my usual chatty self as I made the half dollar-sized circles on the baking sheet.
“And that’s it. Time to cook. Now if it looks too runny and you don’t get these little peak thingies, then you gotta start over. I know, I know. It sucks, but that’s part of baking.” I snorted. “Wait until you guys see the blooper reel for this one. I have failed no less than five times.”
I shrugged with a good-natured smile and straightened up, making sure myWil’s Wayapron was in the frame.
“You know I want to give you shortcuts for dang near everything—can’t do it here.” I grinned into the camera. “However, I do have some tips to make the filling. Guess that means there’s a part two for this one! Hit that plus sign to follow for more.”
I let the camera roll for an extra few seconds, and then I grabbed my remote. I was about to check the video when I heard swearing outside the door.
I glanced at the clock on the microwave. Why did Dennelle have to be so damn punctual?
Wiping my hands on my apron, I quickly scooped all my tools and wrappers into the big garbage bowl I used to keep things semi-controlled.
