I rest my hand on her bicep and gently turn her my way. “Were you jealous, Aria?”
“It was just weird,” she says, not meeting my eyes. “Like . . . that’s my first kiss they’re talking about.”
“They haven’t kissed me,” I point out.
“Well, I don’t know that,” she jabs.
We go quiet, the thundering of my heart the only thing audible.
“I was jealous,” I admit.
She cocks her head back. “Of what?”
“Of your videos. Of the positive community you’ve created. Instead of comments about your appearance, they’re comments from curious people. You get to educate them.”
Ari shakes her head. “You have a positive community too. Look how many people you help with the calendar sales.”
“Yeah, because of how I look. Nobody’s celebrating me for who I am as a person.”
She guffaws. “It’s the internet. People are looking for quick and easy dopamine hits. They want to be sold the fantasy. I’m selling the forest witch fantasy. You’re selling the hot guy fantasy. Neither one is bad. We both find ways to make it helpful. I educate, and you fundraise. Plus, do you know howmany comments I delete about my appearance? Very few of mine are complimentary. I just curate it.”
I grit my teeth together. “People troll you?”
“All the time. That’s being a woman on the internet.”
“Do you report them?” I don’t know if I’ve felt this grade of rage since getting in fights on the ice in college.
“It’s not always worth it. I just delete or block and move on. If I let all that stuff get to me, I wouldn’t be able to reach the people who need a little bit of forest relaxation.”
“You’re stronger than I am. I’d need to crack skulls.”
“Ha. I just cry and drink wine.” She flicks her head up the hill. “Come on. Let’s see who else is out here today.”
“Who else?” I ask.
“Yeah. Which mushrooms.” She trudges ahead of me as the path narrows. “You still play hockey?”
“Nah. Got a couple of bad concussions in college and decided to quit before my brain was mush.”
She turns to meet my eyes over her shoulder. “Sorry. I know you loved that.”
“Eh. I found other things to love.”
Her voice is wistful. “You can enjoy new things and still miss the old things.”
She slows, and I realize where we are. She puts her hand on the bark of the thick tree next to us. The sycamore.
Oursycamore.
Carvings in the bark.Aria rulez. Brodie wuz here.Then something we put here that last summer.BC + AJwith a heart around it. I added the heart, and Aria’s joy on that day is something of a core memory for me.
“I miss the old things.” I trace my finger around the carving. “I miss what we were.”
She shakes her head, walking back my way and leaning into the tree. “We were just kids.”
I shift a half-step closer to her. “You were my favorite.”
Ari’s eyes are soft looking up at me. “You were mine too.”
