Page 6 of Come Find Me Tonight

Don’t tempt me with a good time, Appa.

@Appleygirl: Why is my phone overheating?

@Appleygirl: Six-pack? It’s a brewery.

@Appleygirl: Do you even own shirts?

@Appleygirl: Help, my legs opened, and I can’t shut them.

She’s going to give me a damn heart attack.

@Appleygirl: Is this video three hours long for anyone else?

@Appleygirl: Want to wear my legs like a scarf?

Cue the ‘yes, I do’ guy meme.

I laugh at her comments until my cheeks and the sides of my torso ache. There are so many to go through, spanning over years since the early days of Rook’s account. She must have followed after Rook went viral because I would have noticed her username when my account was quieter.

For years she’s wanted me too.

I sit back in my chair, making it creak, filling the silence of my house with my movement. It scratches at me that she’s been here this whole time. If I weren’t so opposed to looking at comments, I would have noticed. We could have been together by now!

Fucking fuck.

I run my hand over my face. There’s no way she knows I’m the one in the videos. My nipple piercings and scar make me unmissable, but I had neither at the time of the party and was clothed, anyway. The thought that constantly loops in my head plays again…

If I could redo that night, I would have been an asshole—taken a girl home who didn’t know what she was in for. Claimed her and never let go. I would have made sure she forgot how to breathe without me, and that air alone was never enough.

Chapter Three

Appa

My friends have been badgering me to go out, acting like I’m a hermit, but I saw them last week…or was it the week before? In our group text, they decide on drinks and dinner in Santa Monica at a beachside restaurant. I always love going to the pier and feeling the ocean breeze contrasting with the warmth of the sun. It’s only half an hour, depending on traffic, and I Uber to avoid driving in case I drink.

My friends are influencers, too. We met at an event three years ago when our pages were skyrocketing to viral success. One of them is known for her ab-boosting and waist-minimizing workouts. She wants to train me and give me a specific meal plan. I don’t want to be rude to her, but it’s not my thing. I’m a petite size two and like ice cream too much to give it up.

Another is a beauty influencer obsessed with all things Botox, hair, and makeup. She’s closest in size to me, so we often trade gifted clothes and borrow things from each other if one of us has a particular event. She’s the most easygoing in the group. Last year, we coordinated outfits for Coachella. We’re both skipping it this year to avoid the drama that always ensues between influencers one-upping each other, and Lord knows Mama was beside herself when she saw the outlandish, barely there skirts and crop tops we wore that hot, wild weekend in the desert. I don’t need the sunburn, anyway.

My closest friend, though, is a cooking and baking content creator. She comes up with the best two to three ingredient recipes from whole-food ingredients to eliminate processed foods, and I always save her videos to replicate later. But never do. I think she’s embraced the fact that I’m a takeout girly, but I like what she comes up with and love supporting her. I support all my friends as much as I can, but it can get overwhelming to keep up with constant posts and videos—not just theirs but lots of other influencers all over the world.

As for me? My niche is aesthetic lifestyle. I went viral for my very particular organization system in my college apartment, making minimal space maximized and affordable. Lots of college students, high school seniors, and adults of all ages connected with it.

Now, I have a picture-perfect home, post ‘day-in-the-life’ videos, along with ‘get-ready-with-me’ videos, but my highest viewed are organizational videos and restocks. People eat those up, and they’re satisfying to make. I love being organized and don’t know how many thousands I’ve spent on acrylic organizers, but I still love the thrill of fresh plastic.

I’m also the only single girl in our group. I despise it when they want to go on group dates and insist I come along as the only singleton, and I couldn’t tell you how many guys they’ve tried setting me up with. One cycles through guys monthly, and the other two are locked into long-term relationships and nearly are flashing engagement rings already.

While I’ll be happy for her when that day comes, I hope she doesn’t ask me to be a bridesmaid. I’ve ditched bridesmaid duty for all of my brothers’ weddings, and I’m not about to start now. I’m not cynical about marriage, but going to weddings single isn’t my ideal way to spend a Saturday. Sitting by myself, drowning in cheap champagne. That and my irrational fear of a groomsman trying to take me back to his hotel room afterward. I shudder as a cool shock runs through my core. It might be my anxiety, but that scenario was too much like my last date a year ago.

But none of their significant others, new or old, are him. Not that they know I closely follow Rook and similar accounts from the private comfort of my burner account. I’m not sure what they’d say if they knew I followed Rook, or what kind of silent judgment they’d feel. Since when is it a crime to be attracted to a guy with nipple piercings and abs? Honestly. It’s better than the generic trust fund baby that’s going to pop the question any day. Rook had danger, edge, sex appeal…

I smile to myself. I can’t imagine him wearing a polo shirt and khakis while talking to me about growing my money through investing. He’d be in those sexy, distressed jeans, bending me over a surface, whatever’s closest, and taking advantage of me. I can almost hear the metallic clink of his belt as he undoes the buckle.

Whoa, Appa, you’re in an Uber with a stranger.

Last summer, these same girls set me up with the older brother of one of their boyfriends. He was tall and muscular, tanned from surfing, with bright blue eyes. But he wasn’t right. I wanted to be polite to my friends who endorsed him and set us up, but my mind had been closed off before we even met.

If Rook was still posting, no one would ever feel right.