While Nat and the team manager work out the details, I open my phone and slide down to the comments of Layla’s video.
Big mistake.
The comment section is pure vitriol.
She sounds like a psycho-stalker.
How do we know Nathan Campbell wasn’t fooling around with her before she was legal?
I wonder if she paid to have him join the Lucky Strikers after his accident.
I grind my teeth and put the phone facedown.
“Thanks, Max. See you then.” Nat taps the dashboard and stops the truck in front of my apartment. “It sounds like my meeting with Max will be quick. I’ll come back as soon as I can, okay?”
Nat leans over the center console and gives me a kiss.
I kiss him back. “Okay.”
The moment Nat drives out of the lot, I charge up the stairs, lock my apartment door behind me and play the rest of Layla’s video.
“Nathan Campbell was best friends and next-door neighbor to this guy.”Layla shows a blown-up picture of Chris on the screen.“They were inseparable, going swimming together, skateboarding and riding bikes together. Andmost importantly, playing hockey together. But you’ll notice something strange. In the background of all these pictures is one person.”
Layla zooms in on a picture that Chris posted to social media for Nat’s birthday three years ago. I’m in the background, with hair that looks like it belongs to a scarecrow, braces and painful, red acne on my face.
I also just so happen to be looking at Nat with the most unhinged, creepy expression.
To match the less-than-flattering image, Layla plays a daunting, horror-movie-like sound.
I scoff at the dramatic music.Anyonewould look like a creep with that kind of soundtrack. And did she have to choose the worst picture of me? I’m not even sure I was looking at Nat. Maybe I was just about to sneeze. I don’t even remember.
“I can hear you now. ‘But it’s just a picture of the stalker and Nathan Campbell when they were kids, Layla. Maybe it’s not that serious, Layla.’ I have proof that she never gave up her feelings for Nathan Campbell. Right after the accident, Nathan Campbell was in the hospital and they had to hire more security because girls were sneaking in trying to see him. But guess who was poking around in the same ward?”
Another video explodes on the screen. It’s someone doing a viral dance in front of their family’s hospital room door.
I gasp in shock.
Layla speaks into her podcast mike, “I slowed the video down and zoomed in. That’s her. That’s the stalker. She was snooping around Nathan Campbell while he was fighting for his life and security had to be called.”
My fingers form into fists.
I was too easy on Layla. When she shoved me in front of The Tipsy Tuna that day, I should have shoved her back andthenplayed the victim. What was the use of showing such restraint? She’s clearly never gotten a fist to the face before.
I slam the phone down, but I haven’t paused the video so Layla’s high-pitched voice continues to claw at me.
“She’s hovering around him right now, thinking that she’s won because all her years of stalking and obsession paid off. But I know the truth. She’s an unhinged fangirl who’s not even good at her job. She ‘allegedly’ almost delayed an entire flight because she made a mistake fixing the plane.”Layla sighs.“As someone who once cared about Nat deeply, I just have one question. Nathan Campbell, do you really know the woman you’re dating?”
Chapter Fifty-Five
NATHAN
The stadium lights are off, but the lights over the rink cast a warm blue tone over the ice. Bobby’s made his run with the Zamboni already because there’s not a single crack in the surface.
I inhale the faint, mineral smell of the rink mixed with the machine oil lingering from the Zamboni.
I’ve associated this particular smell with ‘home’ since the first time I traded my sneakers for skates and learned how to wield a hockey stick.
Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to Riley’s fragrance. Because of the engine oil she often works with, I can sense a little of home when I hold her.
