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Someone has to stand up for Skye. And someone has to stand up for me, for once. So, if no one else is going to be that someone, screw it, I’ll do it myself.

I take the iPad from her and click onto the login page.

“What are you doing? You can’t post anything, you’ll get caught.”

“It’s my burner account. They won’t trace it back to me.”

I start a new topic:

The truth about Jordy.

“Maya, be careful. Think it over,” Skye urges.

“It’s fine. I know what I’m doing.”

I know Jordy in person, and in real life he’s not like he seems on the show. He cheated on Maya Bailey, then spread horrible rumors about her. He’s patronizing, and rude, and says awful things about women. He’s a slut-shamer, too. And his accent isn’t real. He grew up in the US.

“Maya!” she gasps as I press enter. “You’d better be certain there’s nothing on your burner that can trace this back to you!”

“I’msure,Skye, chill out.”

Skye is silent for a long time. Then, finally, she gives a reluctant smile. “I hope it goes viral.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“You know what?” she says suddenly. “I need a walk. I have too much angry energy right now.”

She rolls off the bed, then turns back to me with raised eyebrows. “Aren’t you coming?” she asks.

“Oh.” I hadn’t realized I was invited. “Cool. Let me just grab a jacket.”

Once I’ve finished expertly styling my pajamas with a puffer jacket and slippers, Skye takes me into the forest, where she filmed her first-date re-creation with Jordy earlier. She looks hopefully at a picnic bench, then sighs. “They didn’t let us eat any of the chocolate. I thought maybe they’d left it behind.”

“I guess it became the producers’ dessert.”

“They didn’t even feed me! I should sue.”

“Oh, shit. I bet we can find something in the kitchen for you?”

“That is simply not the point.”

She flops down into a garden swing with flower wreaths snaking around the arms. I sit beside her, and she shuffles over to make room for me. It’s a tight fit, but we make it work.

“So,” I say. “Any advice for my date?”

Skye kicks us off the ground and we swing gently. “Yes, in fact. Act like you couldn’t care less about him.” I laugh, but she doesn’t join in. “I’m serious.”

“I’m not following.”

She sighs. “You said you two met when you were at softball, right? And he used to come to seeyourgames? Show up whereveryouwere?”

I think of Jordy coming to talk to me when I rolled my ankle. Cheering me on from the sidelines with his friends. Asking me on that hike after weeks of me assuming we were just friends.

“Yeah,” I say finally. “I guess so.”

“That’s Jordy’s thing. He wants what he can’t have, trustme. I know him. Think about your first night here. You said he wasn’t interested, right?”

“Right.”