cupcake mode. I pour myself a glass of water and fill a paper plate with veggies. Individually dip each stick into the ranch dressing because that takes time. One, two, three, celery sticks. Four, five, six, baby carrots.
“You know, we thought you wouldn’t show,” Sawyer says.
I swallow celery and my face starts to burn. “Oh. Sorry to disappoint.”
He looks confused. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Hey, Halle.” Autumn appears on my other side with a plate of apple wedges and honey. She’s traded her black skinny jeans and graphic tee for a black and purple striped skater dress matched with bedazzled combat boots.
“Hi,” I manage.
“Nice win, Sawyer,” Autumn says, mid-chew. “Molly and Sawyer made a bet on whether or not you’d show.”
“Seriously?” I ask.
“Yup,” Sawyer says. “And I just won twenty bucks and a Kung Fu Panda marathon.”
“Molly hates Kung Fu Panda,” Autumn says.
“Oh,” I say, because what do you say when every anxious thought you’ve had around Le Crew is validated? Also, I have zero Kung Fu Panda opinions.
Across the room, Molly turns on the giant flat-screen TV. She’s in a blue floral-print dress, her hair curled in soft waves and bangs swept to the side. She puts the controller down and smiles, waving over to Autumn and Sawyer.
“Hey, Halle!”
And me, I guess. I’m somehow included in the group Molly is waving to?
We move through the crowds, toward the actual media side of the media room. Molly uncoils microphones, while Sawyer plugs his phone into the speakers and queues up a playlist. Molly tosses a mic to Nash, who is now sitting at the end of the navy-blue sectional, feet up. I swallow. Every time I look at Nash, even for a second, it feels like too long, so I take a seat on the ottoman in front of the couch with my back to him. Great plan. Yes.
Until he taps my shoulder.
I twist slowly to face him. Music is blasting in my ears and it’s loud, so loud. Nash leans forward in his seat so I can hear him, his forearms resting on his knees. He’s so close and I’m grateful for the music because without it, Nash would hear my hammering heart. I’m sure of it.
“Hey,” he says over the music. “I need food before the singing commences and all the good drinks are upstairs. Do you want anything?”
I consider saying no thanks, but a drink would be great and I’m afraid if I go upstairs, I’ll never come back down.
“Ginger ale, please?” I ask.
Nash stands and his eyebrows raise, surprised. He smiles, almost to himself, as though this is progress. He’ll definitely message Kels about this. “One ginger ale, coming right up.”
Nash leaves and I move into his corner spot on the now-empty couch, claiming my space, and I can finally scroll through my phone in relative peace. There is even more Alanna LaForest drama in my Twitter feed and I’ve definitely missed something in the last half hour. I click one of the dozens of articles that have taken over my timeline.
Eva Louise EvaReports 23min
FIREFLIES & YOU author AlannaLaForest slams creative team behind the film adaption. Says it’s “not just a teen movie.” Full story here: 2KZOzpw
[550 comments] [1.1k ] [4k ]
|
Elle Carter ellewriteswords 17min
but you’ll profit off teens like OneTruePastry’s free labor lol ok AlannaLaForest
[979 comments] [10k ] [25k ]
I click the link and put my hand over my mouth to stifle the groan that escapes. Seriously, Alanna? You are not making this easy. There are too many messages in my group chat with my friends to scroll through, and if I start responding I won’t be able to step away, so I’ll catch up later. First the EW article, now this? Now you’re going to target your own movie? Do I not have to sign a boycott, since she seems to be boycotting it herself? And would that now make it somehow okay to see the movie? I’m not sure.
All I know is my mentions are worse than ever.
Breathe.
“I didn’t peg you as a Fireflies and You fan, Upstate.”
I drop my phone facedown on my lap, flipping the switch from vibrate to silent. Nash hands me my ginger ale and laughs, taking a seat next to me. There isn’t even a cushion of space between us.
I need to be way more careful with my phone in public. Thank God it was another EW article and not the OTP Twitter feed.
“Fan is a strong word right now,” I say, taking a sip of my soda.