Page 81 of Fake Crown

Destiny sucks in a sharp breath and gives me a ‘yikes’ look. “Not alone.”

“Should I ask Brent to go with me?”

“Do you think he would?”

I consider everything he’s done since I returned to campus and everything he’s still doing now on social media, even when he doesn’t know I see it. “He would.” Whatever corner he needed to turn to see things from my point of view, he’s done it.

“Sounds like a threesome in Val’s eyes.” Destiny winces. “You’d have to meet somewhere very public.”

A gross but valid point.

“What are you hoping to get out of talking to her?” Destiny asks. “She clearly doesn’t want to play nice. You can’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

“I don’t want the rest of my final year to be constantly on guard and trying to one-up each other. Maybe if I talked to her...” The truth is I’m not sure what I want out of the conversation, but I don’t want this battle to go on. Maybe talking to her won’t breed anything positive, but I have to try.

“Call your boyfriend.” Destiny winks. “See what he says.”

I bite my lip, and I stare at the notification on my home screen. When I click into it, Brent has posted another cute photo of us. I had no idea he’d taken so many, although I discovered in Bellerive that I had more of him on my phone than I realized too.

Before I can second-guess myself, I send a text to him.

I think we should try to talk to Val one more time.

We?

You and me somewhere public.

There’s a long pause before bubbles appear on my screen. Can I come over so we can talk in person?

Destiny is home, and Nadiya will be home in a few minutes. We haven’t been alone together in weeks, and I’m not sure I want our first conversation to be with an audience. Is Jaxon home?

No. You want to come here?

A kaleidoscope of butterflies takes flight in my stomach at the thought of seeing him. Be there in 30.

I click my phone closed, and I yell, “Going to Brent’s.”

“Atta girl. Go get your man.”

Brent

Adirty apartment and last week’s sheets are not how I planned to woo Posey back into my life, so I’m rushing around as though the place is on fire. On top of schoolwork and training, managing my social media notifications has become a part-time job, so keeping this place reasonably tidy has not been a priority.

I’ve got alerts on her name, alerts on my name, and alerts on the stupid fucking hashtags bitter unknown people created in the wake of Val’s lies. To say the experience has been enlightening is an understatement. I’m not sure I ever want to go viral for anything ever again. So much easier to ignore all this shit.

But monitoring the fallout made me realize what Posey faced, and if I ever go through this with her again, I can’t ignore what’s fired at her. Although I was, according to Val, the one who cheated, Posey was painted as the villain. I had no idea she was receiving so much harassment because, although mine has been a lot, the comments, memes, shitty photos and general bullshit has been much more toxic for her. Some people even posted about how great I must be in bed because I had two hot women after me. I wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that one.

When I talked to my younger sister about it, she called the reaction misogynistic bullshit, and then she sent me a whole bunch of articles to read about how women are often shamed for things men are celebrated for. It’s the sort of thing I bet Posey has a lot of opinions on, and after I finished reading all of it, I wished I could call her to talk about it. Maybe someday. Instead, I called Nicole back.

Each time I remember why Posey is coming over, I actually can’t believe she’s suggested we try to talk to Val. Val’s attempts to spin everything I post are exhausting, and she’s weaponized her followers, mostly against Posey. Something has to give, but I’m not convinced it’ll be Val. On the other hand, I’m not letting whatever cracks be my relationship with Posey either, even if I have to stay vigilant and on guard for the rest of the school year.

Assuming I can get Posey to admit we’re in a relationship.

Almost exactly thirty minutes later, there’s a knock on my front door. My stomach clenches with anticipation and a hint of dread. We haven’t seen each other in person since she stormed away from here and implied I wasn’t capable of protecting her in the right way. After a week of notes and latte deliveries, and a crash course in social media PR from Jaxon, I was starting to wonder if I was battling a lost cause. Apart from her try harder text, my efforts didn’t get much response. If I didn’t understand how hard it was for her to admit to any kind of feelings for me, I might have backed off or felt defeated.

But I stuck with the full-court press, and if she wants to talk to Val, even if I think that’s a terrible idea, she has to be considering something longer-term between us. Otherwise, why bother?

At the door, I take a deep breath, the same one I normally inhale on the starting blocks when I’m staring down a tough race. When I open the door, I scan her long brown hair, her knee-length winter jacket, and the wariness of her expression.