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“Damn, girl,” I mutter. I walk out to the living room, where I stuff only the most important things I need into a borrowed black clutch that Ruby insisted I use for the night. My Amazon Echo pings and reminds me that I have to leave in five minutes. I’m thrilled I’m actually on time and that my Uber is still running on time as well.
I turn the lights off in my apartment as I lock up and head for the elevators. I open Insta and swipe to my direct messages.
SaltWithRocks: Hey there! It was great chatting with you the other night.
Uh, that’s odd. Who is this? My thumbs hover over the keyboard, hesitation hitting me before I reply.
I check which account I’m in. Since I manage the team’s social media, I want to make sure this isn’t a message on Team NoMad’s account.
Our team manager, Rob, had hired an assistant to take care of all the fan stuff, but the woman he hired hit on the guys every chance she got, so once she was let go, I took over handling our fan mail. It’s always something I’ve enjoyed.
But it’s a message isn’t for the team, it’s to me directly.
My personal Insta account is set to private. I wanted something just for me, outside of the team, but I didn’t want just anyone following my personal life. I do have more than a thousand followers, but they’re either friends or family, folks I went to school with, or industry people I’ve met online.
When someone new requests to follow me, I normally know who it is. I check if this person also requested to follow me, and they did.
The elevator dings open, and I step in and contemplate if I should ignore the message or not. It could be some spammer. The group’s DMs are always full of spammers. It’s mostly girls—well, accounts with a profile of a sexy woman—asking to be friends. I block those.
Just then, another alert comes through, this time for the team’s account. After tapping the app to switch profiles, I see that SaltWithRocks shared a picture of me and Ben from a couple weeks back when he was in town for Dex’s bachelor party. The image has been shared to their Stories, and the added texts says, “These two are the best! So much fun to be around.”
What the hell?
Clearly, I know this person. Or well, they know me.
Switching back to my profile, I look closer at their profile picture as I step off the elevator. The image isn’t of a real person, but one of the characters fromCall of Battle.Awesome, so I still have no idea who this is.Once I’m in the back of the Uber, heading to Adler, biting my lip in thought, I finally reply.
BennyLennyRoss95:Hey! Thanks for reaching out.
Salt must be online still, because the reply is instant.
SaltWithRocks:Yeah! I’m just happy I found you!
BennyLennyRoss95:This is going to sound terrible, but I don’t recognize you by your username.
SaltWithRocks:Oh, ha! You’re probably really confused right now. Sorry about that.
When there is no follow up, I squint at the phone. Are they just gonna leave it at that? If they aren’t going to tell me who they are, then I’m not going to be granting their request to follow me.
SaltWithRocks:You still there? Did I lose you?
BennyLennyRoss95:Yeah, sorry. I just don’t know who I’m talking to.
SaltWithRocks:Haha! Oh man. #Awkward We’ve never actually met in real life. Just online. I’m in the gaming industry and I’ve been following you and your career.
I mean, I’m flattered, but also, this is a little uncomfortable.
SaltWithRocks:Yeah, so I thought it was time we become official Insta friends. If you check out my account, you can see I’m a big fan!
Yeaaahhh, not sure that’s happening.I scroll through the profile and see that there aren’t very many original posts, but there are lot of reposts from popular gaming sites and accounts. Mixed in are some memes. There are only maybe three or four images of real life—a mug of something, sitting next to a PS4 game controller.
I lean back in the seat. Something feels funky here. I can’t put my finger on it, but I also don’t know if I’m just being paranoid. How did they find my account? Normally, my requests are from people I’ve followed, so they see me pop up and request to follow back.Ugh.
I decide to not respond. Hopefully they’ll get the hint and not message me again. If they do, I’ll have to be smart about my reply. The last thing I want to do is alienate a fan of the team.
* * *
Hours later, I’m with Dex’s and Morgan’s friends and family. The rehearsal at Adler went off without a hitch. Surprisingly, no one in our little group had ever been in a wedding, except Ruby. But it all went quite well. The men were naturals when it came to proper etiquette, and I’m excited to see everyone in their wedding attire tomorrow.
