I laughed, because they really were. “I think Lily gave a bad recipe so we’d have to keep going back to the bakery.”
“I think the ingredients were supposed to make it into the bowl,” Ryan said as his chest shook with laughter. “Probably would have gone a long way in making them turn out better.” His arm tightened around me. “But that kiss was the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
I tapped the photo to like it, and left a cookie emoji in the comment section, just for fun.
And then everything blew up.
HotGirlsRead3052:OH MY GOD SHE COMMENTED ON THE POST!
MrsBrad4:She’s such a clout chaser. Doesn’t even post on her own accounts but she’ll ride his coattails. It’s pathetic.
MacrosNMicrophones:Poser. Follow me for real takes.
User82719:It’s probably his sister in the photo or something.
TheRealChad:I wish he would stop posting this shit.
LexReadsALot:I hate her books, but at least I found Ryan Ford out of it. Total book boyfriend.
AuthorWhitneyWest:@WanderWhitlockBooks SHE COMMENTED!
WanderWhitlockBooks:@AuthorWhitneyWest THAT’S OUR GIRL!
LadyAlanaReads:@WillowWinslet Do you get your inspiration for bedroom scenes from Ryan? Because I’m totally picturing him while I read.
“Oh my God,” I said in a panic. “I broke everything. Fix it, please.”
Ryan just chuckled.
“I’m going to kill Whitney and Wander,” I muttered as I watched the like count on the comment I had left with the cookie roll like ticker tape.
“Ignore the comments,” Ryan said.
But I couldn’t. Some of them were nice. There were a lot of people who were, apparently,veryinvested. There were a lot of people who thought I was riding his coattails, or that he was riding mine. There were opinions about it being a publicity stunt. There were comments about the explicit nature of my books. There were more than a few weird comments asking if he inspired the sex scenes or if we tested them out together for “accuracy.” There were a lot of gym bros named Brad and Chad who were apparently mad at Ryan for being a “sell-out.”
The whole time he and I had been together to make good on the challenge to test out The Ford Method, I was under the impression that he wanted to boost his business by proving his tactics. Not once did I think about the fire he would come under for being with me, or how it would reflect on his brand.
“I didn’t realize how many people were invested in us . . .” I admitted. After yesterday, things had started to feel real. I had been blissfully unaware of what the court of public opinion was saying. Now, the weight of it felt as if it was too much to handle. “All of my social media posts are automated, so I never look . . .”
“Good,” Ryan said. “Because no one’s opinions matter to me except for yours. And maybe Wander’s and Whitney’s. I need to stay in their good graces or I’ll get kidnapped and interrogated in an abandoned Burger Palace again.”
I stared aimlessly at my phone’s dark screen. My heart sank as every single comment replayed in my mind on an endless loop. I had only seen them for a second, but they were seared into my memory. My stomach ached, and acid roiled in my gut.
Was I a terrible writer?
Why did people think I was dragging Ryan down?
Why did people think Ryan was dragging me down?
Ryan had so much going for him. Maybe I really was ruining his reputation. I minded my own business and stayed in my lane. It wasn’t like I was on his podcast. He hadn’t inserted himself into my career. We were just two people who occasionally shared fleeting glimpses of our time together. Why were people so mad about that? It didn’t affect them at all.
Ryan took my phone out of my hand and set it beside his. “Let me ask you something,” he said as he tucked me against his side and drew my knee up until my thigh hooked around his leg. “If you were walking through the grocery store, shopping and minding your own business, and someone stopped you and said they liked your hair, what would you do?”
I loved random compliments from strangers. They always felt really genuine. “It would make my day.”
“What if you were shopping in that same store, and someone was standing in the middle of the aisle with a bullhorn, shouting their thoughts about what was in your grocery cart or what you were wearing? What would you do?”
I snickered as I pictured it. “Try not to laugh and keep shopping.”
