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A three-minute video clip of her discussing the opioid epidemic had started circulating that same night. She had talked about how drugs affected not only users, but the people who loved them. Then, with teary eyes and a quavering voice, she had spoken about her own struggles of loving someone with an addiction.
Me.
“He would disappear for weeks at a time. I didn’t know where he was. I didn’t know if he had a place to sleep. If he was cold or hungry. He lied. He stole from me to feed his addiction.” Then, she had looked right into the camera and blotted her tears with a pearl pink handkerchief. “I never stopped loving him, though. People told me he was a lost cause, but I refused to abandon him when he needed me the most.”
The clip ended with raucous cheers and vigorous applause.
I still felt sick to my stomach every time I thought about it. People had finally stopped staring and pointing in the hallways at school. They had finally stopped calling me a junkie, or asking if I knew where they could score drugs. Now, they pretty much pretended I didn’t exist, which I preferred.
I expected the nightmare would start all over again at the start of semester.
Gage, of course, had been pissed. Not his usual quiet anger, either. He had paced the living room for nearly an hour with a clenched jaw and a dark expression of unveiled loathing. I didn’t know if he had been incapable of speech, or if he just hadn’t wanted to frighten me by voicing his thoughts.
The silence had been far scarier, though.
When he had eventually calmed down, he had proposed the idea of doing an interview to tell my side of the story. At first, I had refused. I knew he meant well, and he only wanted the best for me, but it had sounded like such a ludicrous plan. After all, who the hell would even believe me?
He’d taken my hand and held fast to it while he patiently explained plenty of people—the senator’s opponents—would believe me. At least, they would claim to, and that was enough. We didn’t need everyone to accept my version of events. We just needed to plant the seeds of doubt.
And god help me, I had agreed.
Within twenty-four hours, Gage had set up a time and place for me to meet with one of the biggest names in online commentary. At just twenty-four, Ari Turner had amassed a following of over three and a half million subscribers on YouTube. A truly amazing accomplishment, and that didn’t even include her other platforms.
While she occasionally did makeup tutorials or unboxings, the content that had made her famous was videos that exposed drama. She covered scandals, controversies, and people just generally behaving badly. All interspersed with her own takes and opinions.
She also happened to be cute, bubbly, and just clumsy enough to be relatable. While introducing herself, she had tripped over a wire from her light setup and practically fallen into my arms. She hadn’t blushed or stammered or given any indication that the fall had embarrassed her. Rather, she had laughed for a solid five minutes.
I had instantly adored her.
“Hey, Nathan, how are you doing?” Bounding over, her dark ponytail swishing behind her, Ari beamed like I was her new favorite person in the world. “Nervous?”
“Totally,” I admitted. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
Her team had rented a small party room in the back of a local diner for the interview. It had been a nice touch, and sharing a late lunch together had helped me feel more at ease with her. Which had likely been the plan. Still, I appreciated her consideration.
“Don’t worry. You’re going to be great.”
“I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do.”
“Whatever you want,” she responded, sounding a lot like Gage. “We’re just going to sit down and have a chat. If at any point you need a break, or you want to stop altogether, just let me know.”
“Thank you. That actually helps a lot.”
She beamed again and gave my forearm a comforting squeeze. “We’ll get started in about ten minutes, okay?”
I nodded and thanked her again, but my nerves hadn’t settled at all. During lunch, we had discussed how much I was willing to share and what questions or topics were off-limits. After some consideration, I decided I didn’t want to hold anything back about the senator.
The only thing I didn’t want to talk about was Gage or our relationship. I wouldn’t answer questions about the pictures of us, the rumors, or the speculations. I would neither confirm nor deny if we were really dating or only pretending for the cameras.
That part of my life, I wanted to protect.
“You ready for this?” Gage appeared at my side from seemingly nowhere with a miniature bottle of water in his hand. He twisted the cap off and offered it to me.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I accepted the bottle and downed the contents in one go. “Thanks.”
“Don’t worry, kid. Everything is going to be okay.”
I no longer got bent out of shape about him calling me “kid.” I’d just had to shift my thinking. Instead of hearing it as an insult or a comment on my age, I now accepted it as the endearment it was intended as.
