Page 24

Olive

B erlin’s bubble pops loudly, pulling my attention from the snacks to her sprawled across my bed. She chews her nasty Hubba Bubba gum, which has to be flavorless at this point, and lowers her phone with her nose scrunched in disgust.

“These are honestly ridiculous,” she says as she scrolls through the comments on Bodhi’s photo, her bright lavender hair falling out of the bun she put it in when she got here. I don’t know what he was thinking when he posted it, and I wish he would have asked me first, but what’s done is done.

“They aren’t going to get any better,” I point out to the girl I met in class last year.

She was outgoing and bubbly, and we bonded over books.

She became part of my small circle at Lindon, alongside Skylar.

We made our own little book club, buddy reading different titles together and discussing them over snacks and wine at one of our places.

It’s kind of nice. Especially because, unlike my mother, we actually read the books.

I saw the first few comments on Bodhi’s post and refused to see the rest. They were all some iteration of the last, so I didn’t see the need to waste time seeing strangers’ opinions of me. Screw them.

My friend, who spends an awful lot of time in my dorm considering she has her own apartment off campus, sits up. “It’s so stupid. Do these people have nothing better to do with their lives?”

Evidently not. “No. Now can you stop? I already asked Bodhi if he can turn the comments off. Apparently, it’s not that simple.”

Berlin blinks. “Ugh. Yes, it is. It’s like a few clicks.”

“Well, his agent disagrees.” I rejoin her on the bed with a bag of white cheddar popcorn. “In the meantime, let’s not doom scroll. I don’t feel like reading about the ‘charity work’ Bodhi is being praised for just by touching me. It’s like they think I’m diseased or something.”

“Like when Princess Diana was praised for shaking hands with an AIDS patient,” Berlin comments sympathetically.

I stare at her. “How do you even know that? That was before either of us were born.”

“I watch The Crown ,” she answers, a silent “duh” tacked onto the end of the sentence. “I’m telling you, you’d love that show. Even Skylar has finally started watching it.”

They’ve tried getting me to watch it with them, but I was never that interested in the royal family. “I’ll stick to sports and K-dramas.”

Berlin scoffs. “You owe me at least one episode for making me watch Bob’s Burgers with you.”

“And now you love that show,” I point out. “I think you should be thanking me. You said yourself that you relate to Tina.”

She throws a piece of popcorn at my face and watches it bounce into my lap. “Who doesn’t relate to that awkward, butt-loving teenager? I also write spicy fan fiction. It’s a crossover plot about Harry Styles meeting Hermonie and falling in love.”

“Poor Ron,” I sympathize half-heartedly.

She shrugs. “In my world, he winds up with Lavender, so he’ll be fine.”

I’m about to burst her metaphorical bubble. And maybe her real one. “Doesn’t Lavender die in the series?”

“It’s fiction ,” she quickly defends. “And if you want to be technical, people argue that she doesn’t die in the books. So, ha!”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever you say.” I get back to the main point of this conversation. “Anyway, Bodhi apologized for posting it and said he would get his agent to turn the comments off on the post, but his agent thinks this is a good thing.”

Berlin gapes. “Good for who?”

“Bodhi,” I reply with a shrug. It makes sense. I may be getting ripped apart, but he looks like a saint. It sucks, but it’s out of my control. “It’s the nature of the game. Don’t worry about it.”

Berlin, unfortunately, is worrying about it. “If I ever meet that asshole, I’m going to throat punch him with a sock full of frozen butter. Mark my words, Olive. He won’t see it coming.”

The city girl in her is shining through. “You may be able to get away with that in Brooklyn, but not here. And it’s not the end of the world.”

“It doesn’t make it right.”

Bodhi offered to fire his agent for me, but I told him not to be stupid.

It was a sweet sentiment, but he needed him more than my pride does.

And, from a business perspective, I get where the guy is coming from.

There’s no such thing as bad press. Unless you’re the person being torn up.

But I’d like to think my pride is stronger than some keyboard warrior’s unfiltered thoughts of me.

I check my phone and snort. “His ears must be ringing,” I tell Berlin, showing her Bodhi’s name pop up on my screen. He gave me his number when we were at Dave and Buster’s so he could send me some of the photos. Sebastian didn’t look happy about it.

When I swipe to answer, it’s not me who speaks up first.

“Your agent is a chickenshit,” Berlin announces loudly, popping another bubble with her gum.

There’s a momentary pause. “Uh…who is that?” Bodhi asks.

“That’s my friend Berlin,” I explain, not bothering to apologize for her. It isn’t like she’s wrong. He is. “She’s been reading all the lovely comments people have left on your picture.”

I can practically feel his twinge from over the phone. “I’m sorry, little Henderson. I wasn’t thinking. It was a good photo and—”

“And I already forgave you,” I cut him off.

“I promise I’m not mad, if that’s what you’re calling about.

And if you’re going to lecture me, Sebastion already told me not to look online.

Once I saw what TMZ had written about you fulfilling my Make-A-Wish, I’d seen enough.

They got that information from an “inside source” that I imagine has fake boobs and platinum blond hair. ”

Berlin nearly chokes on her gum. “They wrote what ? That’s horrible! And who is this bitch? I can probably take her. I used to live in the city. I was taught to fight when I was five.”

I laugh. “I appreciate it, but it’s fine. Put your shank away.”

Bodhi butts back in. “Does she really have a shank?”

I say, “No,” the same time Berlin says, “Yes.”

Bodhi pauses for a brief moment. “My agent had that article taken down. If it was Melanie, I’ll deal with it, but I don’t think it was. I’m still shocked they even posted that bullshit to begin with.”

I’m not. “It’s TMZ” is my only remark of the gossip tabloid.

Before he can respond, Alex’s name pops up on the screen with an incoming text message. And suddenly, I regret changing his contact name in my phone from #43.

“Ooooh. Who’s Alex?” Berlin singsongs from over my shoulder.

“Berlin!” I hiss, holding my phone away.

Bodhi’s throat clears. “I’ll let you go. I just wanted to say I’m taking care of things, and that I’m sorry.”

He disconnects before I can reply, making me feel a tiny bit bad.

“What?” my friend asks innocently when I shoot her a look.

All I do is sigh.

Because I don’t even understand my guilt over Bodhi hearing Alex’s name. I don’t like him like that. But…I could. I guess. Maybe.

Except you miss Alex.

And that means something.

“So…” Berlin nudges my leg with hers once Alex’s name disappears from the screen. “I really want to know who Alex is.”

Skylar is the only one who knows about my on-again off-again tryst with the Pittsburgh player. It was because of her boyfriend that we were introduced to one another. That was long before Berlin entered my life. And retelling that tale, well, it’s the last thing I want to do.

“He’s the past,” I tell her.

Her eyebrows go up. “Does he know that?”

Is he calling because he needs another pep talk or is it an apology this time? If it is, would I forgive him? Forgiving him fully means making amends, and that would open my heart to the potential of another heartbreak. I don’t know if my heart can take another crack to it.

“Trust me,” I murmur, staring down at the popcorn I’d been in the mood for moments ago. Now it doesn’t seem appealing. “He made it very clear that he was never going to love me the way that I—”

I stop myself, the words scorching my throat and burning my chest as they settle in.

Berlin takes my hand. “Wow. Forget the agent. That sock full of frozen butter is better thrown at this guy.”

Unable to stop the snort from coming out of me, I squeeze her fingers in appreciation. “Berlin, I don’t think you’d be able to survive jail. But I love you for being willing to risk it.”

She blows me a kiss. “Anytime, babes.”

When I glance down at my phone, there’s a voicemail from Alex.

But I’m afraid if I listen to it, hear his voice again, that I’ll fall right back down the rabbit hole that I’ve been working to climb out of since walking away over a year ago.

So, I delete it instead.

And then Berlin and I go to Huden Dining Hall to get dinner and meet up with Skylar, DJ, and Bentley for a movie night in.

*

The rest of July passes relatively quickly, with a brutal record-setting heatwave on the very last day of the month reminding me why having big boobs is not fun. “I don’t know how Dolly does it,” I grumble, taking the keys out to my car and hitting the unlock button.

“Does what?” a voice asks from behind me, making me startle. I drop my keys, sending them flying across the hot pavement while my hand flies to my heart.

“Balls,” I hiss, staring wide-eyed at Alex. I blink a few times to make sure I’m not hallucinating. I haven’t had any caffeine yet, so the likelihood of that is high. “Alex?” I ask just to be sure.

He walks over and squats down to collect my keys, standing to full height merely inches from me. “Isn’t that what that old guy on Supernatural used to say?”

Old—“Bobby wasn’t old” is the first thing that comes to mind. “And I don’t even know how you remember that.”

One of his shoulders lifts as he extends my keys out to me, leaving them hanging from his fingertips. “We used to watch that show together all the time. You’re the one who got me into it.”