Page 84 of Set on You

When the show ends, Mel finally turns to me. “Okay, your doom-and-gloom vibe is seriously depressing me. What’s up?”

“What vibe?”

She preens her lashes and levels me with a look that screamsCut the BS.“Oh, come on. We got full access to the window squat rack today. Usually you’d be all giddy and weirdly sentimental about it, acting like you’ve won the lotto. But you’ve been miserable all afternoon.”

I sigh. There’s no more avoiding this. Wordlessly, I turn my screen to Mel with the beach photo of Scott and me enlarged.

Her face lights up. “You finally posted it! You guys look amazing in that shot.”

I take a moment, biting my nail to the quick. Objectively, I know I look great in that photo. That swimsuit is flattering as hell. So why have I become so obsessed with the opinions of strangers? “Have you read the comments?”

“Do I need to cut someone?” She scoops up her own phone from the coffee table, already scowling before she begins to scroll,like the loyal friend she is. It warms my heart that she’s already righteously outraged on my behalf, and she doesn’t even know what’s going on. As she reads, she lets out a strangled gasp, shaking her head. “I am so sorry. These people are seriously messed up. Like psychologically messed in the head.”

I press my lips together. “You should see the DMs. They’re even worse.” I toss her my phone so she can see for herself. She reads a couple aloud, which only further cements their brutality.

She regards me for a moment. “Screw them. If they have a problem with our bodies, why should we care? I hope you’re not taking any of this to heart.”

“I guess not... I don’t know,” I lie, even though my heart is as raw as a bloody rare steak. I desperately wish I were tough enough to let the comments roll off my back like Mel does. But after seven years of having my account, my armor is worn and I’m fully exposed.

“Don’t let it consume you. And definitely don’t respond. It’s not healthy to engage with the haters. Trust me, I know.”

“I’m not. I’m not posting anything until I figure out how to handle this.”

“All influencers go through this and everyone comes back from it stronger than ever. Even the skinny influencers. Selena Gomez was fat-shamed a few years ago. I’m not trying to say it’s the same thing, but I do understand—”

“Yeah, it’s not the same thing,” I interject, tone sharper than intended.

She cuts me a stern look and crosses her arms. I’m officially an asshole.

My throat tightens with regret and I backtrack. “I’m sorry, Mel. I’m just a little overwhelmed.”

Her face softens as the seconds tick by. Eventually, her arms uncross and I’m thankful she hasn’t written me off as a complete asshat. “Does Scott know about this?”

“I don’t think so. He hasn’t mentioned it, at least.” Thankfully, Scott doesn’t regularly check his Instagram account. I also didn’t tag him in the photo in an effort to maintain his privacy.

“You’re going to tell him, right?”

I shrug.

“Crystal, you need to before he sees it himself. Tonight.”

“I know.”

Deep down, I know Mel is right. Scott deserves to know. My fingers itch to call him, but upon a brief glance at my phone screen, I see he’s already texted me a few minutes ago.

SCOTT:Excited for leg day? Think you’ll go for a personal best?

SCOTT:Also, I have a new high intensity workout for us. Promise I’ll go easy on you

The juxtaposition of his carefree text with the sting of the Instagram comments makes me feel even worse. It’s like someone has trapped me under a heavily loaded barbell.

The last thing I need is pity from Scott right now, despite how comforting I already know he would be. He’s seen the hateful comments on my other posts, and we’ve talked at length about them. But he’s never seen comments in relation to himself. He’snever straight-up read about how he’sinto fat chicks, or how I’mso disgustingandunworthy.If the comments I’m so used to can affect me to the point of tears, how badly could they affect him?

And worse, could he start to believe them?

•••

“I WAS THINKING, since you’re not feeling up for the gym tonight, we should just have a night in? I could even pick up some sushi,” Scott cheerfully suggests over the phone. He’s completely oblivious to the avalanche burying me alive.

---