A link pops up on my screen, and I click it, landing on a celebrity gossip site. A preview box for the “clip of the day” appears, and I press thePLAYbutton. My heart waterslides down to my stomach as I watch the pieced-together clip of myself. The first few images are just photos; me pulling Tad out onto the dance floor, Logan holding me close and whispering into my ear. And then, a photo of Cam carrying me outside. My head isturned away from the camera, and it almost looks like I’m leaning in to kiss him. But if you look closely, you can clearly see that I’m not. You can see his stupid mouth, free of my stupid mouth.
Then, the photo of Cam and me morphs into crystal clear video.No, no, no.I had hoped it was all a drunken dream. But there I am, pushed up against the stone wall of The Tabernacle. My chest burns thinking about the cold stone up against my hot skin. And then the video stops.This is all wrong!
Vee:
Nothing happened! I pushed him away!
I was drunk
Cort:
I would hope so
Vee:
This looks horrible
No wonder they were calling me a slut
Cort:
Don’t read online comments
they’re jealous
and jerks
Online comments?I pull up my Facebook page and have two hundred new friend requests. Every one of them has included a message letting me know I’m a slut. Or a bitch. I’m not good enough for LoganorCam.There’s a real lack of creativity among the fans, if you ask me.The other sites are no better. The breath seeps out of me as comment after colorful comment tells Logan how they support him, how sorry they are for him. Yoko Ono seems to be the go-to nickname, which is ridiculous, because I’m pretty sure that’s not even how Yoko Ono allegedly broke up the Beatles. I think she was a weirdo, not a home-wrecker. I’mtorn between crying and screaming, because this is absolutely ridiculous.I’m not even dating anyone!And while Cam is clearly the one introducing my back to that wall, everyone seems to pity him, too.Poor Cam; somehow I lured him into my sticky web of sluttiness.
Dammit!
Sitting at the tiny table in the back of the bus, I stare blankly at my computer screen. Do I comment? Ignore it? I could try to explain, but what would I even say at this point? “Logan and I were never together, so who cares if it looks like I hooked up with another guy in the band?” The more I consider the truth of the situation, the more I think maybe Iamthe horrible person the anonymous trolls are describing. I only flirted with Tad to make Cam jealous. Same with the other guy. As I sit in the booth at the back of the bus, head down on my laptop, my phone chirps and buzzes over and over. An endless stream of new love notes from the band’s adoring fans, no doubt.
I’m still sitting head-down on the table when Cam’s voice enters the kitchen. “You okay?”
After last night, avoiding Cam was today’s mission.Dream on, Virginia.Sometimes I think he’s planted some sort of secret monitoring device on me. Something that registers when I’m in distress, so he can swoop in for the save. “Sure, I’m great,” I say. “Don’t Ilookgreat?”
Cam sits in the seat across from me in the booth. “You don’t, no.”
I flip open the laptop without looking at it, and push it toward him. I can hear the background noise of the Ferris wheel as the video clip starts.
“Fuck.”
“Yep.”
“So those girls earlier?” he asks.
“Yep.” I click the notification symbol that’s now showing“672” and shove the computer back toward him. “Seems I’m everyone’s favorite tour slut.”
“Vee—”
“Don’t, Cam.”
“I shouldn’t have—” Cam’s hand is an inch from mine on the table, and usually I’d make a big show of pulling it away, but I don’t even make the effort. He drums his fingers next to mine. “Where’d they even get all that stuff?” he says.
“Someone’s phone, obviously. It’s not like they were frisking everyone.” I focus on the table. “And you know where the video came from.”
“Ten secondsafterthis, you were pushing me away.” He runs a hand over his head. Cam looks behind me, toward the front of the bus, and suddenly he’s out of his seat, striding down the aisle. Tad is standing by the bunks, his camera trained on us.
