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A text from Jackson distracts me from my thoughts. I roll my eyes when I scan it on my lock screen.
Jackson:Heading to the gym. Ty and Harris reserved a court. Want to come chill?
Tatum:For the hundredth time, I see through what you’re doing. I told you already. I’m fine. Stop being the overbearing big brother, it’s not your vibe at all.
He sends back a middle finger emoji and I huff. He’s checked in with me a few times a day. I don’t know how, but somehow he knows the full truth of what went down between me and Coop. Simone swears she’d never tell him and I believe her.
That only leaves…
Licking my lips, I open Instagram. The last photo Cooper posted was from the concert with our faces pressed close together, the stage Phantom Knockout played in the background. Five minutes after we took the photo, the rain started. The heart emoji with my name isn’t listed in his profile anymore. My throat tightens and I switch to TikTok. It’s not there, either.
With a sigh, I rest my forehead against the edge of my phone. What am I doing?
Is it healthy to stalk his social media like I used to? Definitely not. Can I help myself? Definitely not.
There aren’t any new posts. I trap my lip between my teeth as I stare at his smiling cover image on the most recent upload after the repost of the basketball game’s kiss cam. It’s titledWays To Treat Your Girl Right Part 10. I’m too afraid to ask Jackson if he’s seeing anyone. Thankfully, he hasn’t brought his best friend up when we’ve spent time together.
Clicking on the video, my heart climbs into my throat. We took a break from one of our study dates in the library to come up with the ideas he put in this post for our couple content. I pause it when he’s done introducing the video’s hook before his chuckle is my undoing. The comments are close to a hundred thousand, way more than I remember being the last time I looked at his account. Curiosity gets the best of me and I open them.
The top liked one asks where we are, begging for Tate and Coop content. There are a dozen more with similar sentiments flooding the comment section. He hasn’t responded to any of them.
I pick another video, then another. All the comments are the same, asking where we are. Some seem to be South Bay students that have taken on answering comments with the news of our break up. People question how there’s any hope for them if a perfect couple like us can’t stay together.
I shake my head. We lied to so many people and made them believe we were perfect all so people would see past Cooper’s thirst trap reputation.
Scrolling back, I pick one of my favorites from his posts before I became a feature on his account. He’s at the beach, his surfboard stuck upright in the sand. He smirks at the camera in that playful way I love, water droplets dotting his handsome face. When the beat drops, he covers the camera with his hand, then reveals his wetsuit peeled down to his hips, muscular tan chest on display while he does the trending dance of that week.
I lose myself to watching his videos, both my old favorites and going back through the ones we made together.
He’s hot, that’s always been undeniable. But as I let the video loop, I stare into his eyes and remember the way he says my name. The warmth of his hand resting on my knee or holding mine. His smile when one of the concepts from his classes clicks for him once I break down the explanation.
“This is tragic. Why are you sitting there with your backpack on? You’re not even ready to go.”
I turn at Simone’s voice, eyes unfocused and limbs stiff from staring at my phone screen for so long. Oh. I got sucked into watching TikTok and lost track of time. I didn’t hear Alison get back from her lab or leave for her study group while I was absorbed in looking back on my fake relationship. We’re late for the party we’re going to tonight.
She sits on my bed and takes my phone, lifting her brows when she sees what I was looking at. “Girl.”
“I know.” I rub my eyes. The sting doesn’t go away. It only gets worse until I feel tears leak free. The dam I’ve held back splinters, the painful flood of heartbreak surfacing from where I buried it until I was ready to process it. “Sorry, I just. I don’t know.”
Simone makes a sympathetic noise and tugs me from my seat at the desk to sit beside her. She helps me take off my backpack and wraps me in her arms. She rubs my back while I break down. “Cry it out, babe. You can’t compartmentalize your emotions and just go on like everything’s fine.”
“I was trying to focus on me,” I mumble. “It’s like I don’t really know how to be myself without him anymore. I’m meeting people and going out. Doing all the things he helped me find the courage to do. All I want to do is tell him about my day. How did I fall for our lie?”
“I’m sorry you’re hurting. It would seriously help if he was an ass, but he’s still doing that.” She squeezes me and her attention slides to the pile of notes on my desk. “My mom says time is the only medicine for these things. I’m doing my best to avoid getting close enough to a guy before he can touch my heart.”
My laugh is watery. “I’m getting your dress all soggy.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She wipes my tears and smiles at me. “Do you still want to go to the party? It’ll get your mind off this. We need a girls’ night. Just you, me, and the dance floor.”
After a moment of mulling it over, I nod. I need the distraction, or I’ll end up crawling in bed wearing one of Coop’s shirts.
“Want to stop for milkshakes and fries first?”
“Always, bestie.” Simone kisses my cheek. “Let me do your hair.”
Some of the tightness in my chest eases as we laugh and get ready to go out. This won’t break me. I just have to be strong.
FORTY-TWO
