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I turn on my camera and snap a picture slightly from above. I send it to Tanner and add the words:Having the time of my life here. I hope your day is going better than mine.
To my surprise, Tanner actually answers right away.
Are you Santa’s Little Helper today?
Yeah, if Santa were the biggest asshole on the planet.
Rough day, huh?
It’s alright. My boss is just kind of a jerk.How are things over there?
It’s good. I’ve been to a few workshops that have been really interesting. There are some new features on one of the platforms I’m on that sounds really cool. I have a couple of meetings this afternoon, so I might not be able to get to my phone.
I’m not sure what to say about the cool new features he’s talking about, so I just send him a smiling face. I really want to ask him if we can talk later. I want to hear his voice. Maybe that’s too much, though. Hedidsay that he’s going to be busy. I’m just going to have to be patient.
When my shiftis finally over, I hurry back home. Despite knowing that he can’t talk, I really want to talk to Tanner.Needto talk to him. I dial his number, listening as the signals gothrough. I get to his voicemail, but I don’t leave a message. I’ll just have to try again later.
I grab a frozen dinner from my freezer and pop it into the microwave, and then I try calling him again. No answer. This time, a text comes through.
Sophie, I told you I’d be busy tonight. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
My heart picks up speed. Is he annoyed with me? Crap! I put away my phone, resisting the urge to call again just to explain myself. I can hold out until tomorrow, can’t I? Instead of giving into temptation, I head off to bed.
I scroll through Tanner’s feed again as I lie there. There’s a new post with a picture of some people up on a stage. One of the workshops he was talking about, I guess. Tanner’s caption mentions something about sustainability and their responsibility as influencers, but I don’t really read through the whole thing. I keep scrolling, marveling at the number of likes and comments he gets on each and every post.
I can’t even begin to comprehend having hundreds of thousands of people following me. Having so many people know about my life. It seems kind of weird. Scary, even. And maybe a bit exhilarating. I open up my own profile. I almost never post on there, but maybe it might be fun if it’s something I would take more seriously.
Tanner’s photos are always so professional, and with all the engagement he’s getting, it must be kind of fun. I glance up at the number of followers on my profile. Thirty-seven. I bet he gets that many new followers every thirty-seven minutes. I snap a picture of myself, still wearing that goddamn Santa hat for some reason.
This elf is exhausted. Are there unions for Santa’s helpers?
I post it, not sure if it’s cute or cringe-worthy. I get some likes from family and friends, but that’s about it. How do I even beginto try and reach new people? And why would they follow me? I’d need better photos to start. Maybe I should try and up my social media game while Tanner is away. As a distraction, if nothing else. Can’t hurt to try.
It’s too dark to get any good pictures, but I’m too excited not to give it a go. I light some candles, and I find a string of fairy lights that I put up over the couch behind me. Grabbing a cute mug, I sit down and press the timer on my camera. I look off to the side, my legs tucked up under me. I hear the camera go off, and I hurry over to see the result. Not bad, actually. I’ll just have to mess with the color setting a little, and then it should be good to go!
Tanner’s right; this is fun! I continue with my little photo shoot for hours, trying on different outfits and settings. It feels good to be creative. I don’t even remember the last time I actually created something.
Maybe I should give this whole thing a go?
CHAPTER 4
Icall Tanner the following two nights as well, and we talk for a few minutes. If I’m being honest, it kind of sounds like he’s a bit annoyed with me. On the day he’s supposed to drive back home, he doesn’t pick up the phone at all. I try to keep busy, snapping a few new shots for my profile. I’ve actually gained a few followers; I’m up to forty-three now!
Every time I get a notification, my heart starts beating a bit faster. It’s just so exciting seeing the likes tick up. I decide to take some pictures outside while wearing a new dress that I just bought the other day, and I pose in front of one of the massive Santas that are peppered around town with my little pomeranian. It turns out really cute, and I post it after messing with the colors and lighting for a few minutes. There’s instantly a like from a profile I don’t recognize.
DonnieWylde93. His profile picture shows a guy with a buzz cut, his chin raised, and his light eyes looking at the camera with lowered lids. He kind of looks like a fuck boy, but who am I to judge? I do notice that he has almost ten thousand followers, although I’m not sure why. What’s his secret? He only seems to put up shirtless pictures of himself. I look through his profile, and a couple of seconds later, I see that DonnieWylde93 is following me and has left a comment under my post.
Damn, you’re hot.
I know I should be at least a little bit outraged by his words, by the possessive, objectifying way he writes. But I feel a small thrill inside. Does that make me a bad feminist? Probably. In any case, I don’t respond to Donnie, but those words echo in my head for the next hour. I’m not used to being told that I’m hot. Maybe I am? My thoughts are interrupted when a text from Tanner lights up my screen.
Can I swing by your place when I get back into town? I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.
He’s almost back already? That was quick; he probably didn’t take very many breaks along the way. I smile and practically run back home to straighten up the place. Lucky for me, I’m still wearing my new dress. I hope Tanner will appreciate it as much as DonnieWylde93 did.
My doorbell rings exactly twenty minutes later, and I fluff up my hair in the mirror before I answer the door. Tanner lookskind of tired, and he only half hugs me back when I fling my arms around him.
“I’m so glad you’re back!” I yell joyfully, holding onto his arm.
