He winks, which has my stomach fluttering. Then he heads back to his table, where his friend is still laughing.
I watch them gather their things and leave, and the moment the door closes behind them, Nina appears at my table like she’s been launched from a catapult.
“What was that?” she hisses, eyes wide. “What just happened?”
“I accidentally made him go viral online and then sneezed powdered sugar all over him.”
“I saw! The whole café saw! It was amazing!” She’s practically vibrating with excitement. “Do you know who that is?”
“Mason Grey, apparently.”
“He’s gorgeous. Like, criminally gorgeous. Everyone in town knows him.” She leans in closer. “Please tell me you got his number.”
“I got his shirt covered in sugar. Does that count?”
She laughs, bright and delighted. “You’re my new favorite person.”
She bounces back to the counter to help a customer, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my rapidly cooling mocha.
I pull out my phone and look at my post again.
Six hundred likes now. The comments are still rolling in.
And then I see a new follower notification.
@MasonGrey is now following you.
My heart somersaults in my chest.
I click on his profile. It’s only three photos. Ocean views for two. And one photo of him shirtless on a boat deck that has seventeen thousand likes and comments that are somehow even thirstier than the ones on my post.
I close Instagram before I can spiral into overthinking.
Stay focused.
I take another sip of my mocha and pull my laptop back toward me, determined to get some work done. The illustration of Loki stares back at me.
My fingers hover over the trackpad without moving.
After a moment, I grab my phone and open Instagram again.
Mason’s profile is still there, right where I left it. I catch myself smiling at the photo of him shirtless. Then I realize what I’m doing and close my phone.
“Get it together, Anita,” I mutter.
But maybe coming here wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
3
ANITA
I’m still replaying the powdered sugar incident in my mind when I finally find the address of my apartment building.
The café is three blocks behind me now, and I’m pretty sure my face is still the color of a tomato. I can’t believe I sneezed on a gorgeous stranger, made him go viral, and then spent ten minutes staring at his Instagram profile like some kind of creep.
Things happen, right? That’s what normal people say. Things happen.
Except normal people don’t accidentally photograph hot strangers and turn them into internet sensations within the span of twenty minutes.
