The one Eli and Jude took weeks ago, after I tripped outside The Marrow, and Knox caught me like some kind of slow-motion romcom movie hero. I’d rolled my eyes at it when they first posted it, and then forgot it even existed.
But now?
Now it’s viral.
Mega viral.
Someone put music over it. Someone else slowed it down and added captions like“Celebrities falling for normal people”and“Real life romance in the Rockies”.There are already fan edits. Fan edits of me. Me and Knox.
My hands shake as I scroll through the comments.
Does anyone know who she is??
I heard she works with him. Did you see @SpillTheTea’s TikTok live?
WAIT, are they DATING IRL???
I want a man to look at me like that, omg.
He’s so hot I’d fake trip too tbh.
He’s too good for her. What happened to him and Savannah?
My heart pounds in my ears.
It’s too much.
I throw the phone onto the bed like it burned me.
Because this? This isn’t cute or flattering or fun.
This is invasive.
I didn’t sign up to be anyone’s internet live stream. I didn’t ask to be part of a viral moment. And I definitely didn’t ask for random strangers to be dissecting my life.
How am I supposed to breathe, let alone talk about the pregnancy, when I’m being turned into a character in someone else’s fantasy?
I press my palms to my eyes, trying to will the tears back.
Because this was already overwhelming, navigating whatever this thing is with Knox, figuring out how to tell him about the actual life growing inside me, trying to steady myself in a town where everyone knows everyone and rumors spread like wildfire.
And now the whole internet knows me by name.
Well, not my name, not yet. But it’s coming. It always comes.
They’re already talking about us like we’re some Hollywood movie, like this isn’t Silver Peak, my hometown, and just my normal life.
I think Ireallyunderestimated Knox’s fame, and this has proved that.
But now I can’t breathe. I can’t even think.
I bury my face in my hands, trying to stay quiet, but the sob escapes before I can stop it. It comes out loud and broken, like glass underfoot.
And then the tears rush in, hot and fast, soaking into my sleeves before I can do a damn thing about it. I don’t cry pretty. I cry like I’m unraveling, like something vital is splitting open inside me.
There’s a soft knock on the door, then the creak of it opening.
“Josie?”
