“Who’s the worst?” I ask sullenly. “Oren’s been pretty understanding.”
“Girl, have you not checked Twitter lately?” Ali is sitting cross-legged on my couch, a bag of hazelnut Oreos balanced carefully on her lap.
“I don’t have Twitter,” I say. “Why?”
“The hashtag ‘#LexiLeggings’ has been trending all week. It has come to the attention of the online world that you wear an exorbitant amount of black leggings.”
“What’s wrong with leggings? They’re comfortable!”
“Nothing.” Ali flicks a crumb from the corner of her mouth. “Except that they aren’t real pants and every pair you own has a hole in the vaj.”
A quick peek confirms she’s right and I cross my legs. It’s one thing to flip through “Who Wore It Best” articles about celebrities you don’t know, and quite another to be the subject of it. Am Igoing to need a whole new wardrobe now that I’m with Jake? My stomach rolls as I contemplate how much work that will take and worse, how much it will cost. Even with a culinary degree, I’m only earning minimum wage at Olive & Pomegranate, and I still have student loans to pay back.
Chloe takes a deep breath before continuing.
“The best thing you can do is give them as little information as possible. Never speak to the press. Never post pictures of you and Jake on Instagram. And whatever you do, never,everread the comments.”
I gulp, trying my best to take it all in. I trust Chloe—this is her profession, after all, and her advice makes sense. She’s right: I just need to be as boring as possible and hope the public will lose interest soon.
To this end, Jake moved back to his suite at The Pierre this morning, anticipating that the press would be dissuaded once they realized they wouldn’t get any more shots of us coming or going. But the apartment feels empty without him, and suddenly way too big. Considering how long I’ve lived here on my own, I’m stunned by how lonely I feel. The silence is louder than the noise, somehow.
Chloe tilts her head sympathetically. “Listen, Jake seems like a good guy, and honestly, I’m thrilled to see you so happy. So do your best to ignore the noise and try to focus on what matters: you and Jake. You deserve this.”
I can’t help but smile, my earlier tension dissolving.
“You guys are the best.” I rise to my feet and head to the kitchen to refill my wineglass. “Any chance you want to spend the night? I can make us some brownies.” By “make us some brownies,” I am of course referring to adding an egg and some oil to a boxed mix, the extent of my willingness to bake.
Chloe slips her MZ Wallace tote bag over her shoulder, her attention already returned to her phone.
“Wish I could, babe, but I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow. We’re doing an intervention for Chad to convince him to go to rehab.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize he’s an addict.”
“He’s not. Unless you count an addiction to being an asshole.”
“I’ve actually dated several men who suffered from that affliction,” Ali quips from the sofa.
Chloe sighs, shaking her head as she types. “Anyway, the public loves a good recovery story, and sending him off with an apology and a plan to ‘do better’ is a great way to repair his image.” She smirks. “Plus, there’s no internet access at the Betty Ford Center.”
I turn to Ali. “How about you? We haven’t had a sleepover in ages. We can have aPrice Is Rightmarathon, and I’ll make us the Johannsson Special.”
“I can’t tonight.” I notice that she looks uncharacteristically shy. I narrow my eyes, attempting to parse out what’s going on.
“Oh? And why is that?”
She bites her bottom lip and looks up at me through her lashes. “Because I’m going on a third date.”
“Ali! Now who’s the one holding out? How long has this been going on?”
“Not that long, I promise! Like, two weeks, tops?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t mean to keep it from you. It’s just, you’ve kind of been going through something here.”
Crossing the room, I wrap my arms around my friend, pulling her in closely for a hug.
“Ali, I promise you, no matter what is going on in my life, I will never be too busy for you. Please don’t feel like you need to keep me in the dark about anything, ever. Okay?”
