“It ruins the secrecy and like the specialness of it,” Taylor agrees.
Harlow is nodding along. “No, I know. And that is a real problem. But this account I follow is private.”
“Oh, my god. Are you talking about TeresasTravels?” I ask excitedly.
Harlow freezes. We stare at one another. Warmth creeps up my neck, and I start to shrink back on my heels. I didn’t mean to cross our unspoken agreement to avoid one another, but I got so excited to find another person who follows my favorite traveling influencer in the wild.
“Yes,” Harlow says softly.
“That’s smart.” Landon points in emphasis. “Keeps it exclusive.”
“Or like she’s gatekeeping,” Lucy says. “How does she decide who gets to follow her? What’s her criteria?”
“She approves everyone who agrees to be kind and respectful while traveling,” I snap, feeling oddly defensive. I’m very aware how creepy and dangerous parasocial relationships can be. And while I don’t feel like I really know Teresa or think we’re friends because we’ve interacted a few times online, I still don’t want my sister making harsh judgements about someone she doesn’t even know.
Then I glance at Harlow. Shame floods me once again as I remember doing that same thing.
“She keeps her account private to avoid going viral,”Harlow explains. “Limited exposure helps keep foot traffic light while letting people who want to explore new and cool places find them.”
“That’s awesome,” Taylor says.
Harlow nods. “And she’s really into supporting the local economy. A while ago, she put on this scavenger hunt where the clues led to struggling restaurants. If you were one of the first hundred people to order a meal, then you got one of these special souvenir magnets. It was from before I found her account, but I always thought that was so cool, and I wish she’d do it again. I’m so jealous of everyone who got one of her magnets.”
“Oh, how thoughtful,” Mom says.
Greg clears his throat, and Lucy turns to wash her hands. Her shoulders are tense, and she sounds annoyed when she says, “We’re going to head out early.”
“Oh no. Leaving so soon?” Mom asks.
“Greg has a big case he’s preparing for that starts trial on Monday.”
Greg nods curtly. “It’s been a pleasure.”
Has it, Greg, has it?
“I’m going to call it a night too,” Harlow says.
“Oh, not you too!” Mom’s face falls.
“Daisy needs dinner. She gets a little hangry and will eat my throw pillows in retaliation if I’m home too late.”
I smile.
“But thank you so much for having me,” Harlow says. “I loved meeting everyone.”
There’s a little flutter of hope in my chest that “everyone” includes me, but the second her gaze lands on me, her bright smile drops.
“Well, I’ll walk you out.” Mom holds her arm up in thedirection of the front door. “I understand having obligations. And it’s so good you’ll be joining us tomorrow.”
I freeze. She is? I assumed I’d never have to see her again after my fuckup. Sure, she has an apparent friendship with my mom, but I’m rarely in Michigan. Knowing we’ll spend all Christmas together, I should apologize so tomorrow isn’t as awkward as today was. I just hope she hasn’t already unmatched me on SapphicSingles.
Chapter Four
Harlow hadn’t unmatched me, but she ignored my apology. I know she saw it because the three little dots to indicate she was typing appeared, then disappeared. They appeared a second time, then never again. I spent all night trying to come up with a way that I could make it up to her—since I’m not a shitty person, despite the way sticking my foot in my mouth might otherwise suggest—and every idea I have sucks. Until it finally hits me, and I groan.
I’ve always said I’d rather die than step foot in Winston again.
Yet here I am.
