Follow Me(17)

I love DC! You’re going to have the best time there!

Great earrings!

I felt my smile stretching, becoming more genuine. This was why I shared my life online. The free products were fun, but it was the connection with real people that kept me turning on my phone. It made my heart sing to know that at that moment, tens of thousands of people across the world were taking time out of their lives to hear about mine, to send me comments.

Of course, while the comments were usually evenly divided between fawning praise and questions, there was the occasional slimy one. Nice rack seemed a perennial favorite. I ignored the more lecherous comments, knowing they were almost certainly posted by some weirdo living in his mother’s basement. (The irony of mocking anyone else for living in a basement did not escape me.)

“Having a serene living space is really important to me,” I said, telling them not the truth but rather something I wanted to be the truth. “So these boxes have been driving me bananas! I’ve been far too busy since I moved here to unpack, so I made the decision to stay in tonight and finally tackle them! I’ve got everything I need: a box cutter, a glass of wine, and a Talking Heads record cued up. Wish me luck!”

good luck, audrey!

Good luck!

You have the best taste in music!

goooood luck xxx

“Bye for now, lovers,” I said, tossing a wink at the camera and disconnecting the livestream.

I dropped the phone to my side and let the smile fall from my face. I really did not want to unpack those boxes. I poured another glass of wine and began rearranging my records instead. Maggie mocked me mercilessly for living a digital life while collecting something so hopelessly analog (but Maggie worked as an accountant for a paper company, so, really, who was she to criticize something for being analog?), but I loved the tangibility of records. My infatuation with them had started on a whim, when I’d come across a secondhand (or, more likely, third-or fourth-hand) copy of the Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album at the Brooklyn Flea and had decided it would look fun in a frame. Then Nick gifted me a record player so I could actually listen to it, and I became a vinyl convert.

My phone interrupted my thoughts, and I glanced down at the screen and smiled. It was as if thinking about Nick had actually conjured him, like some sort of sexy Beetlejuice.

“Nicky,” I purred into the phone. “I was just thinking about you.”

“And here I was, thinking you didn’t care at all. You didn’t even bother to tell me you were moving to town.”

“You seem to have found out.”

“You’re not exactly discreet, you know. Although I did expect you to call.”

“The phone works both ways, babe. You could have called me.”

“I am calling you.”

“Well, you have my most heartfelt apologies for not alerting you to my relocation.” I dropped my voice slightly. “Maybe you want to come over so I can show you just how sorry I am.”

“I think that might do the trick,” he said, a smile in his voice. “Text me your address.”

“Doing it now. See you soon.”

? ? ?

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Nick was ducking through my stooped doorway. Warmth flooded my body, and I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling too broadly. I would die if Nick knew that his presence still melted me, even seven years after we had officially broken up.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said, clear blue eyes twinkling as he surveyed my boxes, half-empty wine bottle, and open container of animal crackers.

“Oh, shut up, Nick,” I said, playfully punching him in the arm. “I’ve only been here two weeks. Which I’m sure you know since you’ve been stalking me on social media.”

“It’s not stalking when you put it out there, Aud.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

He flashed me the same teasing smirk that had won me over sophomore year in college. When I first met Nick, he had been upside down, his arms clenching the sides of a keg and a hose in his mouth. It hadn’t been a flattering angle, but even then I could tell he was handsome. With my arms crossed over my chest and one eyebrow arched, I’d waited for the guys holding his legs to right him.

“Wow,” I had said dryly. “That’s hot.”

Totally unfazed, he had brushed his golden hair from his eyes and smirked. “I assume you’re next?”

It was the first and last time I attempted a keg stand.

“Well, this isn’t exactly the Castle, is it?” Nick said, referencing the nickname for my old sorority house.

“Not exactly. But it’ll do for now. I think the place just needs a little bit of light.”

“And some furniture. Are the movers bringing that later or something?”

“Or something,” I admitted. “I don’t actually own any.”

“What about all that stuff in your apartment back in New York?”

“It was all Izzy’s. I’m going to have to buy new stuff, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“Well, you know there’s an IKEA over in College Park, right? It might not be glamorous enough for a social media star like yourself—”

I stuck my tongue out and poked him in the ribs; he lightheartedly batted me away.

“—but let me know if you want a ride over there or want my help assembling furniture or anything. I don’t like to brag, but I’m pretty handy with an Allen wrench.”