Page 125 of Smut

Everything in me freezes, ice cold.

I click the link, hoping, hoping, hoping…

It takes me right to the Amazon page for Falling for the Secret Male Stripper.

Holy fuck.

HOLY FUCK.

NOOOOOOOOOO!

The phone drops right on my face, clocking me right in the nose.

“Arrrgh!’ I cry out in pain. I sit straight up, my head spinning, everything spinning, and fuck my life, is that blood coming out of my nose? I wipe my finger underneath and stare at the red smear.

But that’s the least of my worries. I frantically try and open the phone and text Sarah, my fingers shaking as I try and type.

What are you talking about? Where did you hear that?

I see the three dots flashing. They disappear.

Then come back.

Then disappear.

“For fuck’s sake, write what you were going to say!” I scream at the phone, shaking it.

Finally: Blake told Georgia and Alan. He said you were really successful now and you wrote together. I just wanted to let you know it’s cool. I just bought both your books. I had no idea you were that slutty lol.

I stare at the screen, dumbfounded.

He told them.

He told them our secret.

He’s going to ruin my life.

I text her back: Please don’t tell anyone. That was supposed to be a secret.

Again with the flashing dots.

Then: I’m sorry, I think everyone knows. It’s all over Facebook.

“WHAT?!” I scream out loud and instinctively toss my phone across the room.

I cover my face with my hands and rock back and forth on the couch, trying to breathe.

It’s on Facebook.

My parents are on Facebook.

Maybe there’s still time, I think to myself. Delete every tagged post!

I bring out the laptop and go on Facebook.

It’s everywhere.

Some posts are genuinely trying to be helpful: “Hey I went to school with this girl and now she’s a successful author, check it out.” Others are mocking: “Dude, who knew Amanda Newland was such a pervert?” And some are just straight up posting on my page: “Is this true? Is this you?”

---