Page 120 of Toxic Wishes

“Get what?”

“Social media. People. I mean, I bring valuable information to the table. I try to give all the knowledge I can not only from my education but also from my experience. Then you get people on here that talk with their damn mouth full, chewing and talking about nothing. Just their stupid day and get millions of views and followers.”

“Are you trying to be an influencer now?”

“No. Yeah. I mean, kind of. I’m still unsure if I want to go the psychologist route or dietician, and with how the world works these days, I would love to be a virtual dietician, but that means I need followers.”

Pretending I haven’t looked at her Instagram page, I sit beside her.

“Let me see.”

Her defenses rise immediately, snatching her phone off the table.

“Really?” I narrowed my eyes on her.

“Fine, she says, reluctantly handing me the phone. I skim through her phone and see that most of her videos are faceless, doing voice-overs as she prepped a meal or some workout video where you could barely see her face since she was far away.

“You’re limiting yourself because you aren’t showing your face. There are so many more ways you can be entertaining while educating your audience if you show your face.”

“Nope, uh huh.” She tries to grab her phone from my hand, but I hold it high from the opposite side of her.

“You love doing that, don’t you.”

“Kind of. It’s cute seeing you struggle.”

“Whatever,” she says, folding her arms over her chest. I watch her lips poke out as she pouts, and I have to hold back my laughter when an idea hits me.

“Stand up,” I tell her.

Her gaze darts to mine as she squishes her eyebrows in confusion.

“You heard me. Come on,” I tap her side, indicating to her to get off the chair. I place the phone against the fruit basket in the middle of the island and position it to sit upright. Remembering where her camera app was last time, I opened it up.

“What are you doing, Colt?”

“You’ll see. Alexa, play, Come and Get Your Love.” I say

Okay, I am playing “Come and Get Your Love by Redbone. I walk over and turn it down a little, making sure it doesn’t wake up Bodie. The music starts playing, and I sway my hips as I approach her.

Hail, Hail, Hail, what’s the matter with your head. Yeah.

Hail, (Hail), what’s the matter with your mind.

I bring a finger to my head as I grab her hand and start dancing with her. She giggles in my hold as we sway together.

“What are you doing?” She says through a laugh.

“Dancing. You like eighties music, right?”

“This is the seventies.”

“Close enough. Hang on, baby.”

I let go, and she glides on the floor, twirling in my hand as I bring her back.

And your sign, an-a, oh-oh-oh

Hail, Hail, nothin’ the matter with your head

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