Page 45 of Lucy and Her Wicked Three

"Yeah. Just thinking."

"You know, there's no pressure—"

"I know." Then she laughs, shaking her head. "Mateo said the same thing last night. I think the hardest part for me right now is admitting that I really do want to try it."

"What Silas was saying, earlier, if the three of us walked up to you in a bar and asked you on a date… maybe try to imagine that's what's happening right now. You don't know me and Silas. And you don't know Mateo as a part of a group dynamic, either. It's all new, right? So maybe, for the sake of easing yourself into the idea, imagine we only just asked you out. Just like how anynormal relationship might start," I add quotations to the word normal.

Silas returns with the beer, so I refill hers then turn to her. "Lucy, I'm Noah. This is Silas. We're friends of Mateo's. More than that, we're very close and we want to ask you on a date and get to know you. Maybe you could fit in with us, too."

Her sunshine grin widens, and it's like a weight lifts off her shoulders. "I would love to go on a date with you. Thank you for asking."

And just like that, all the tension fades away, and we're officially on a date.

The subject organically shifts and we make small talk. Eventually, Silas asks her about her online persona, ZenInTheCity, and while she doesn't hesitate to answer his questions, her shoulders crawl a little higher toward her ears.

"You chose a pretty public path, considering your anxiety," I point out, feeling comfortable bringing it up since she's talked openly about it with both of us. "That whole cheating scandal with your friend aside, having such a public life must leave you pretty vulnerable and open to scrutiny."

"I know. But my goals when I started looked real different than they do today… I never expected to get famous. I mean, I love it. I love my job. If I even still have one...."

"What do you mean?"

She shrugs, "Well, I haven't posted anything in two weeks. Everytime I open my phone right now I have a damn panic attack. Or if I'm feeling stable, and manage to get past the anxiety, then I'm hit with another video or onslaught of DM's and comments from people who are tearing me apart right now. It's been two weeks, I keep thinking it'll die down. Nothing online has the momentum to last any longer, I swear if I'm not old news by now, I will be soon. But still… being offline for twoweeks? I might as well have deleted my account. No one stays relevant without posting several times a day."

Lucy's hand goes to her chest, and she pulls the material of her t-shirt away, fanning herself like she's overheated.

"You okay?"

She looks stuck, lost in a mental loop, so I reach over and grab her hand.

"Sorry. Zoned out there."

"No worries, Lulu. So, why did you change your goals once you got famous?" Silas asks.

Lucy takes a big swig of her beer before answering. In fact, she pounds the entire thing, glugging it down like a frat boy, before slamming the glass down and refilling her cup. I'd laugh if I didn't realize she's doing it in response to her rising anxiety. When she sets her glass down, she gets a faraway look on her face.

"Growing up the way I did—on boxed mac and cheese, learning the definition of food scarcity way too early—fueled a passion for health, and I wanted to use my voice to help others. So, it started with food. Having quality, healthy, abundant food. My momma always tried her best, but when she had me at nineteen, she had no clue about raisin' babies or even taking care of herself, so when I got old enough, I had to learn for myself.

"It started with blogging creative ways to make healthy meals on a budget since I was a scholarship kid in college and lived off the crumbs of my living expenses. It became an obsession because I wanted to eat healthy, but it's hard to do when you're broke. Blogging turned into YouTube, and other students started listening in. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was posting reviews—local food products and markets, then restaurants.

"People started asking about other things I did to stay healthy, so I started posting exercise videos. And what do youwear when filming yourself working out?" She gives us both a cheeky grin, tilting her head. "Sexy as hell workout gear, of course! Eventually, it gained me a lot of followers, which led to advertising money. It grew really fast after that. It may seem cliché, but it all started because it made me feel good, and I wanted to help others."

"So, you got traction because you were doing self-help content that was focused on wellness?"

"Yep." Lucy downs her forth beer, and Silas and I share a concerned look. She continues, "I hate what I've been posting lately. More clothes people can't afford. Exclusive gyms people don't have access to. Rooftop penthouse pools."

"Like Matty's," Silas says knowingly.

She snorts, "I can't believe he bought that apartment for us to move into together. He's a lunatic. You know that, right? The man is unhinged." Lucy's words begin to slur. But she's no longer anxiously fidgeting. Not the best coping mechanism, getting drunk, but for now it's fine. I make a point to pour the last of the pitcher into my and Silas's glass and she either doesn't notice or care.

"Y'all are so fucking hot," Lucy says, looking at us both dreamily. She's waning fast, but judging by Silas's laugh, he's into it.

I feel him press against me, while he tries to lean closer to Lucy. Being between them feels intense. They start flirting, and while I know nothing will happen with Lucy tonight considering her sudden inebriation, it doesn't take away the need to adjust my jeans. I'm not subtle, and when Silas leans too close into my personal space, I can feel his breath on my neck, and I fucking swear he's doing it on purpose.

All I can picture is the two of them together. I want to watch. I want to be there, I want to work with him, taking herapart. Teasing her, taking away all her stress, filling her up with confidence and joy and laughter.

"And come," Silas snickers, and I whip my head toward him, suddenly staring right into his honey-brown eyes.

"What?"

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