Page 21 of You Will Never Be Me

“Oh, it’s—” I flap a hand casually. “It’s Aspen Palmer, not sure if you guys are friends?”

“All Day Aspen? Of course, yes, I know her.” Tanya narrows her eyes at me and leans in. “Ex-best friend?”

I raise both my hands. “Zero drama. I still love her to death.”

Tanya nods vigorously. “Yes, zero drama, totally. Love her.”

“Yeah, it’s just…” I let my voice trail off before sighing and letting my shoulders droop. “It’s just one of those things, you know? We used to be like this—” I curl my index and middle fingers together. “Inseparable. Her husband hated me because we were basically joined at the hip.” I give a sad laugh before pressing my mouth into a thin, sad line. “But then, um, well, I guess she got too big for me.” Another bright smile, so brave of me. “It’s okay, though. I’m fine. I’m so happy for her, she deserves every bit of her success.”

“Wait, what?” Tanya says. “So you guys used to be besties, then she got big and dumped you?”

I cringe. “It sounds awful when you put it that way. I’m sure she had her reasons.”

“Bullshit!” Tanya snaps. “Ugh, I hate people like that. I’m like, if I’m going up the ladder, I’m taking as many of my friends up with me.”

“Same!” I say. “But not everyone feels the same way, obviously. And it’s not like I’m even hoping for a handout or anything. I just…” I modulate my voice so it’s nostalgic, but not pathetic. “I just miss my best friend.”

“Well, you don’t have to, because I have decided that we are going to be besties.”

I giggle as Tanya wraps one skinny arm around my shoulders. “I love this girl!” she hoots at nobody in particular. “She is literally my new best friend.” She lowers her voice. “And this Aspen bitch? She is dead to me. I always thought she was super fake. She is done in this industry.”

A cold shiver crawls down my spine, guilt nearly choking me. Part of me wants to tell her no, it was all a mistake, Aspen’s fine. But the other part of me spits out memory after memory of Aspen’s little snubs over the past couple of years, ever since she became so much bigger than me: Aspen turning me down when I ask if we can hang out, Aspen posting Stories of her hanging out with her mega-influencer buddies, Aspen giving me social media tips and advice like I’m an amateur (when I was the one who taught her how to do social media properly in the first fucking place). Each terrible memory seethes with poison, its toxicity swirling around the curves of my brain, clouding my senses.

I meet Tanya’s eyes and I nod. And later, much later, when the story has spread all over the party like a noxious fume and someone says to me, “Should we do something crazy?” I seriously consider it. Because let’s face it, Aspen deserves every bit of what’s coming to her.

10

ASPEN

Deep breaths. Everything’s fine. Actnormal. Don’t think about how my life seems to be falling apart at the seams, threads somehow unraveling while I scramble to retie knots here and there. I’m okay, my marriage is lovely and my children are delightful and I must be happy-happy.

But the whole way to the party, I can’t quite shake off the feeling that I’m being followed. And even after I get here, the feeling doesn’t fade. In fact, it intensifies. Am I imagining it, or are people slightly cold toward me? From the corner of my eye, I keep catching lingering looks that are less than friendly. Cold stares that are broken as soon as I glance over. Snippets of whispers, bringing me right back to high school—a place crawling with bored, hormonal teens on the prowl for someone to hurt.

No, stop that. I force a smile, make myself lift my chin. I’m just imagining it. These are my people. Fellow influencers whohave chatted with me, who have proclaimed me as their “bestie” or their “sis.”

I’m clutching my champagne flute in front of me like a shield and have to remind myself to lower it. My phone buzzes with a text message.

Something is very wrong. Why aren’t you more worried???

I stuff the phone back into my purse, squashing the feeling of dread as deep down as I can. Scanning the room, I catch sight of a familiar face.

“Remy!” I cry with delight. Remy is one of the OG momfluencers, a glamorous blonde who also happens to be a successful party planner. Our friendship began about a year ago, and we DM each other a few times a month. Hers was one of the many friendships that Mer had accused me of upgrading to when my social media accounts became huge. The thought of Mer and our fight threatens to tug the corners of my mouth down. With a little shake of my head, I banish all thoughts of her. “It’s been so long.”

Remy looks somewhat taken aback to see me. “Aspen!” It takes only a split second for her to conjure up a dazzling smile, but it feels like eons. We kiss the air near each other’s cheeks. “How are you?”

I give a dramatic sigh. “You of all people know how it is, what with the kids and the photo shoots and all. And Elea is still going through her rebellious phase.” It’s part of our thing; Remy and I bonded by commiserating with each other about our crazy schedules and how surprisingly hard and lonely it is at the top.

But instead of laughing and agreeing with me, Remy onlygives me a close-lipped smile. “Yeah, I hear you.” Her gaze scans the room.

Again, I shake off the uneasy feeling that’s been plaguing me the whole evening and fight to keep the smile on my face. “Enough about me, what about you, lady? Congratulations on the new partnership with The Orangery, oh my god, you superstar.”

“Thanks, Aspen.” Remy catches sight of someone over my shoulder and waves, her face brightening. “Sorry, girl, I just saw someone I need to say hi to. I’ll catch you later.” She squeezes my arm and is gone before I can say another word.

What the hell? That wasn’t normal, was it? I turn around to see who Remy ditched me for. It’s Tomas, an up-and-coming comedian. What the hell is a momfluencer like Remy talking to a comedian for? That’s someone you talk to if there’s no one else in the room, not someone you ditch a fellow momfluencer for! Then—my skin prickles, my whole body freezes—the two of them, still speaking to each other, look at me.

And it is not a friendly look.

They both catch me watching them, and Tomas says something in Remy’s ear, and she giggles behind her hand before shaking her head. Embarrassment sears my skin. My scalp crawls like it’s about to writhe right off my head. They are talking about me.

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