The reporters don’t know about me and aren’t here about me.
Exceptthey doknow about me.
If they remember the video, they do.
Is two and a half years long enough to forget what the star of a viral video looks like?
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
The bells on the door next to an old wooden bear statue jingle.
Laney’s gone pale.
Notpale-pale, but pale enough for me to notice.
I try not to act weird while I track the movement out of the corner of my eye. I’m in theone seatthat doesn’t have a clear view of either outside or the door. But I get a glimpse of a camera on a strap slung across a guy’s shoulder as he stops at the counter.
Then a glimpse of Willa coming out to help him.
We all hold our breaths and listen as he orders a cup of coffee and a muffin.
And I realize I’m being stupidly ridiculous.
Reporters will be a part of my life from here to eternity. I need to learn to handle this. Iamlearning how to handle this.
And they don’t know about Jonas and me and Bash. Not together.
Plus, is this guy really a reporter, or is he a photographer stopping by on his way to get shots of the mountains?
Because we get people with cameras all the time.
I shift in my seat, pulling my phone out of my pocket and texting Jonas under the table.Have you heard of reporters arriving in town?
My phone vibrates with a call instantly.
I send him to voicemail and text him again.Don’t want to talk right now.At Bee & Nugget with Sabrina and Laney for a quick break.
His reply is, again, nearly immediate, but this time over text.Graham is across the street. Eyes on the situation. If you need him, steal Laney’s scone. If he thinks you need him, he’ll show up. Do whatever he says. I’m sorry. Love you. And I’m sorry.
I text back a heart emoji and tuck my phone into my pocket. And then I lean into the table. “I heard a rumor they’re taking the fish and chips off the menu at the tavern,” I say quietly.
If this guyisa reporter, it’ll look far more suspicious if we’re sitting here gaping at each other like terrified morons than if we pretend all is normal.
Both of my friends look at me like I’m crazy, but only for a second before Sabrina nods. “I actually heard that too, and I didn’t believe it, so we tracked Bitsy down last night. She confirmed. It’s true.”
“Why?”
“Apparently they can’t get the right mix for the batter right now and they’d rather not serve it than serve what Bitsy callsutter rubbish.”
“They don’t make it in-house?” Laney asks.
Sabrina cracks a weak smile. “That’s a secret I’m not supposed to know.”
The man’s still at the counter. I think he’s looking at his phone while he’s waiting for his coffee.
Or possibly he’s pretending to look at his phone and he’s looking at us.
Is he looking at us?
