Page 40 of The Pucking Grump

I heave a small sigh of relief at that last comment. It’s as vile as the rest, but it’s a good thing that no one knows who Blake is. The video was shot at an awkward angle, one where Blake’s face was completely hidden. People could have mistaken him for Ben if his blond hair wasn’t sticking out.

Even if this has tripled the negative press about me, Blake being anonymous is the best I could hope for. It means he’s not going to get dragged further into this mess. Blake is well known in the league, and if people figure out he’s the one, his career could be in jeopardy too.

Thinking about that gets my fingers trembling again, and I scroll past that post. The next comments in the feed don’t make me feel any better.

“Look! Faye’s father just posted, ‘I’m no longer talking about my daughter. She’s made her choice.’ Guess he’s as done with her bullshit as we are.”

“Faye just lost 200K followers in a single night. Biggest fall from grace ever.”

“Never known someone to work this hard on building their career only to throw it away like this. The fact that she’s STILL NOT SAYING ANYTHING ABOUT ALL OF THIS MAKES ME SO MAD, I WANT TO SPEW FIRE.”

“Faye, I loved you. We loved you. And we all regret it.”

That last one does it. I shove the phone away, my fingers jerking out of my control. I stare at the smooth surface of Blake’s table, barely even seeing anything.

One thing I know for sure is that my plan to go online and tell the world every single thing that’s happened is not going to work. Even if I tell the truth, the negativity would be so overwhelming that no one’s going to believe me, anyway.

I have to do something else. But I have no idea what.

“Have you had enough?”

I look up to see Blake coming out of the bedroom. He looks freshly showered, wearing a clean set of clothes.

“Yeah,” I admit, pushing the phone farther away from my line of sight. I look up at him, half waiting for an explosion. I brought nothing but chaos into his life since he met me. Surely, he’s at least a little miffed about it.

But Blake merely settles in the seat opposite mine. “People will get over it. Trust me.”

I try not to recall the awful posts I’ve been browsing through. “It doesn’t seem like it.”

“Well, maybe not immediately. I’ve got a friend, Alex, who was in the league. A few years ago, a girl went off on social media about him being a sociopathic playboy. But people moved on eventually. Because there’s always the next scandal to obsess about.”

I scrunch my brows, trying to remember that story. It happened only a few years ago, and it was such big news that even I heard about it—the studio workers were always discussing it. “Didn’t she almost succeed, though? Everyone forgot about it only when he started dating the girl next door.”

Blake’s lips are drawn in a thin line. “Yeah, my sister. They’re happily married now.”

“But you still don’t believe in love.” I hold my breath, feeling a little embarrassed. Does that statement make me sound desperate?

Blake doesn’t seem to notice anything. He shrugs. “I know love exists . . . maybe. My friends seem to think that, anyway. But the fact that I don’t believe it nullifies its existence. In my life, at least.”

Why does that make me feel disappointed? I knew this about him from the very beginning.

I decide to focus on more relevant topics. “Your sister. She’s the one who called you. She recognized you.” A tick of fear tugs at my chest. Is it possible other people recognized him, too?

“Yeah, she did,” he acknowledges. “But Britney and I grew up together. Of course, she’d recognize me. I highly doubt anyone else will. I guess I was worried about my friends figuring it out, but they know how much I . . .”

He tapers off suddenly, so I swallow the ball lodged in my throat and complete his statement before he can. “They know how much you dislike me.”

“Well . . . yes. Before. I like you very much now.” He smirks. “Don’t worry, we should be in the clear.”

“I can’t believe how calm you’re being about all this.” Maybe asking him directly about his change in behavior will help sort out my confused feelings.

Blake shrugs again. “There’s nothing to be upset about. In a few days, this is going to blow over. No one knows it’s me in that video. What we should be concerned about is talking about your next steps.”

We. That comforts me more than it should.

“I’ve got no idea what to do next.”

Blake reaches out and grabs the phone. Then he chucks it across the room toward the living room, where it crashes on the floor and disappears underneath the couch.

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