Page 59 of Lucy and Her Wicked Three

As it is, when I arrived for brunch at our usual spot, my heart raced and my skin felt like it was on fire beneath my sweater. I couldn't fan myself enough because then I just felt cold and clammy, but I forced myself to walk through the door. But as soon as I sat down, I felt better, hurdle past. But it hasn't dissipated completely.

"Oh, Lucy, have you checked your accounts lately? I know you haven't used your phone in a while, but I wasn't sure…"

I shudder. "Uh, no. I have no idea what's going on with them. I'm probably going to get fired by all my advertisers." It's only been two weeks, but that's the sad truth.

Mary-Anne's eyes go wide. "Well…" She chews on her lip, then looks at Cara and Portia.

Cara spits out, "You have like, two million followers."

"W-what?"What? I look at Portia who winces and nods her head.

"I don't understand. I haven't posted anything."

"Well, apparently people who loved the Delaney drama started following you both. Since Delaney's been posting all those videos apologizing to you, it's keeping everyone engaged. A little trashy if you ask me, but… whatever." Cara chews on her breakfast, and I feel a twinge of guilt hearing the jealousy in her tone. It took me so long to get to 1.2 million followers. And now I'm at two? All because my supposed friend tried to ruin my life and reputation?

That creeping feeling under my skin returns, and I think it's obvious, because my best friend has mercy and changes the subject again.

"So anyway, Lu, how's the living situation?" Portia grins wide, all but bouncing her eyebrows suggestively. I forgot shesent me those videos until just now, too preoccupied with what happened the last time I came in for brunch.

Now I'm overheating for a different reason.

"Oh, I thought you and Mateo made up? Did you move?" Mary-Anne asks sweetly.

I glare at Portia, feign nonchalance. "I didn't move. And yes, we did. I mean, we didn't really technically break up, it was pretty obvious right away that the pictures were bullshit."

"Lies! I totally had to talk you off the cliff." Portia snarks, sipping her mimosa.

"Okay, yes, fine. It took me a second, but once I found out the truth of what Delaney did, it seemed obvious. Mateo would never cheat on me. But, yeah, now things are good and he has a couple of friends crashing with us for a few days." I brush it off like it's no big deal, when dismissing them as nothing more than Mateo's college buddies feels inherently wrong.

They're so much more than that. But the more time I spend with them, and the more I want them in my life, the bigger the divide feels between me and my old self. It's like all the things that blew up in my face, my inability to post anything, to stomach the social media machine, all sit firmly in before or after categories.

I'm in the after, and I have no idea what that means or looks like. Or who I am in it. What will I do with my life, if I'm no longer an influencer? I mean, I always knew I'd age out. Then again, people with funny or interesting platforms stay famous well past their twenties.

But I'm not funny or interesting. I'm health-and-wellness. I'm sexy-workout-clothes and brunch-with-the-girls. I'm rooftop-swimming-pools and avocado-toast.

My stomach churns, but a hard pinch on my arm snaps me out of it.

"Dude. You're spiraling."

I take a deep breath. "Thanks, Portia."

"No problem. Anything you want to share with us?" Portia asks, though her words come out more like a demand. Like she's tired of my bullshit. Not as a friend, but that I keep brushing off the big stuff, and feeding her the lies of perfection. She's tired of it, and has been prodding me since everything blew up to be real with her.

So, like I did with Mateo… I try to open up and be honest. "Umm. Well. Y'all know I've always struggled with anxiety. I mean, it's not a big deal—"

A kick under the table from Portia makes me jump and rub my shin. "Alright, jeez. Hold your horses. This is hard."

"I know it is. But don't downplay it. I saw you after brunch two weeks ago. I also know that's not the first time you've nearly passed out from stress. We're your friends. Right?"

Mary-Anne pipes up, nodding her head profusely. "Yes, absolutely. Whatever you need, Lulu. We're here for you."

"Thanks Mary-Anne." I look over at Cara, unsurprised she doesn't say anything, but when she notices me looking, mid-sip of her mimosa, she nods her head and puts her glass down.

"Totally. We're here for you."

"Right. Well… it's not a big deal—"

"Ahem—"

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