Page 1 of Scandalous

One

“If you aren’t feeling valued in a relationship, then it’s time to move on. Life is too short to wait for a boy to man up. That’s just my two cents though. Tell me what you think in the comments. It’s been a wonderful Therapy Thursday. Don’t forget to send in your submissions for next week’s discussion. Love you all. Kisses.”

As I cut the camera off, I take the extra second to confirm I’m no longer live. Then I let my smile fall as I take off the blue light glasses, rubbing my eyes.

“You need to go get some rest,” Holland, my best friend and roommate, calls from the computer where she has been monitoring the chat during my live feed.

“I should respond to some comments first. Only an hour,” I tell her.

She has been with me through the roughest parts of my life, but she stays by my side. Three years ago, I never would have imagined being a social media influencer. Yet, one thing led to another and after a viral video, here I am.

“You have class in the morning. Fifteen minutes and not a second more. We both know how quickly you lose yourself to the beast. Next thing you know, your alarm will be going off.”

I roll my eyes at her. “Yes, Mom.”

She’s not wrong though. Whoever thinks being an influencer is an easy job is dead wrong. There’s a lot that goes into it, from coming up with material to keep you relevant to making connections with companies and other influencers. Ignoring internet trolls and paying attention to your fans. It all adds up.

While I enjoy it, I’m also just exhausted. Going to college full time while keeping my empire afloat is time consuming and draining. Hell, I don’t remember the last time I went out for fun. Usually it’s for some brand or a skit I’m trying to do.

“I mean it. I’m going to go get ready for bed. When I’m done, you better be in bed sleeping.”

I give her an innocent smile. She can see right through it, but she leaves anyway.

I dive into my comments, replying to those who were there for the live that I couldn’t reply to directly. While I have it set up to see the stream of comments at the bottom of my screen, sometimes they comment too fast for me to read.

I smile when I see one familiar tag.

The.American: You tell them Aurora.Blake. A man who doesn’t know a woman’s worth is worthless himself. Dump the posers and find a real man.

Of course he did. The.American is another influencer who posts with a group of his friends. There are four total. The.Aussie, The.Brit, The.Boricua, and The.American. They came on the scene years before me, steadily building up a cult following. Santiago is the Boricua, Puerto Rican born and raised. Drake’s the resident American. Liam has that sexy Australian accent, while Ezra has the British one. They don’t have an official label, but their female fans like to call them the United Nations.

I will give them credit. They are all smoking hot and funny. Even the asshole of the group, The.Brit can make me laugh. They throw these over-the-top parties every year in different cities, making them theitcrowd.

I have been trying to get in with them for the past two years. Not that it’s worked. After stumbling through my first year, I finally got my feet under me and learned the game. Not every other influencer is kind. Most of them only want you for what you can do for them. Their online personalities are often only a facade they put on.

Not me. I don’t like all the politics. Instead, I try to remain true to myself. What you see is what you get.

So when I first reached out to the United Nations, I sent them a quirky video asking them to collaborate with me.

They declined.

They didn’t disappear though. If anything, they started popping up on all my videos, each one leaving their own mark on me.

Yet, they still haven’t invited me to a damn party. I mean hell, The.American, a.k.a. Drake Kennedy, even moderates some of my lives for me. I’ve talked to each one in one way or another every single day for the past two years, but that’s not enough to get the elusive invite.

I should want it for the clout that it will gain me, but honestly, that’s not even why I covet the invite so bad. Truth is, I want to go because of them. I want to meet them and find out if they are as amazing as I’ve built them up in my head. Either that or find out they are disappointing so I can finally end these fantasies I’ve been having.

Holland thinks I should just ask them, but that’s not me. I enjoy talking to them. I don’t want them to think I’m trying to use them. It’s just not me.

So instead, I sit and wait for it to happen on its own.

While I want to meet them, there’s also a small part of me that’s afraid. I’ve built them up in my head so much that what if they aren’t as they seem? What if what I know about them is all the facade they put up? While the disappointment would ruin my fantasies, it might be for the best. I can’t keep drooling after all four men.

I mean, not even Holland knows about all the dreams I’ve had. Individually, all together, and everything in between.

It’s my secret.

Ignoring the heat that fills my cheeks at the thought, I type out a response.

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