“And?”
Ivy shrugged. She still didn’t feel like talking.
“Shit. He’s an asshole, too. I can go to Moorehead, if you want. Tell him that—”
“No, that’s okay.”
Ivy didn’t want to think about Zeke anymore. Zeke or Blake or Rebecca. What she wanted to do was lie down and take a nap, wake up tomorrow for a fresh start.
Damn you, Abs.
“I know this isn’t a great time, Dr.Reeves, but there’s—there’s something you gotta see.”
“What is it?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
No shit.
“Show me.”
Tristan got up from his desk and passed his phone to her. Ivy made a face.
“TikTok?”
“Click play.”
With every second that passed, Ivy felt the hangover knot in her stomach tighten.
“You have to be kidding me,” she whispered.“Bae-sian Prof? Who the hell posted this?”
Ivy kept her eyes trained on the phone as heat rose in her cheeks.
“No idea. It’s a new account, no other posts.”
“How many people have seen it?”
Ivy wasn’t a TikToker. Didn’t know how to interpret the heart, the weird badge, or the curved arrow symbols. The extent of her social media knowledge started and stopped with an old Instagram account that she only rarely logged into. When Tristan didn’t answer, Ivy raised her gaze. The TA’s lips had curved downward.
“It’s blowing up.”
“What does that mean? A hundred people?”
Tristan’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
“More.”
“Like how many—”
“150k.”
Ivy’s eyes bulged.
“One hundred and fifty thousand?”
“Yeah,” Tristan said dryly.
“How the fu—we need to take this down.”
