Page 21 of The Emerson Effect
The viewers are desperate to find out exactly who I’m crushing on. I can tell they’re also enjoying the hell out of the mystery. The hard part is finding the thin line between revealing the truth too soon and dragging it out to the point where they lose interest. I want to toe that line as long as possible, because once I tell the world it’s Twila, this thing will shift into overdrive with everyone salivating over when we’ll finally meet. And once we’re “together,” the interest in our story will start to wane.
I’ve seen it before, followed flirty stories like the one we’re crafting, and I know people tend to lose interest once the connection’s been made.
The front door swings open, and I look over from my spot on the couch as my roommates file in. Ritchie tosses the basketball they took to the park into the basket by the door as Stone and Mason rib each other for missed shots and blatant fouls. They’re all sweaty and red-faced after the pickup game I declined to join, but they obviously had a good time because they’re all smiling.
“Hey, man,” Stone says when he spots me on the couch. “You missed a great game. We smoked those douchebags from Belmont Heights.”
“Nice,” I say, holding out a fist for him to bump as he approaches.
He taps his knuckles against mine, then crosses his arms over his chest as he stares down at me. I’m glad he has the common sense not to plop down on the couch next to me while he’s drenched with sweat, but it feels like an ambush when his brother and Ritchie move in to flank him.
“What?” I ask as the three of them continue to stare.
“This is an intervention,” Stone says, his lips twitching like he’s trying to force them not to curl up.
“And intervention?” I ask, and Ritchie shakes his head.
“It’s not anintervention,” he says, driving his elbow into Stone’s gut and making him grunt. “But weareworried about you.”
“Worried? About what?” I ask, honestly confused.
“You’ve been obsessing over your BingBang account lately. Like, a lot more than usual,” Mason says.
“Yeah,” Stone adds, his voice as identical to Mason’s as is his physical appearance. “You’ve haven’t hung out with us in forever.”
“I went to the club with you last week,” I remind him, but he just shakes his head.
“Where you stared at your phone the whole time, then left early,” he counters.
I huff out a breath and lean back against the couch cushions before I respond. “I know. I’m sorry, guys. I was obsessed while waiting for Twila to agree with my plan, and now that she has, I’m obsessed with watching it succeed. And it is, you know. Succeeding, I mean.”
“The video with the daisies?” Ritchie asks, and I nod.
“Thanks for helping me with that one, by the way. It’s already got a million views.”
“What the fuck?” Stone blurts. “Seriously? It’s only been a day.”
“Seriously,” I say, nodding.
I can’t quite believe it, myself.
“That’s a lot of people who’ll be pissed if they ever figure out this has all been scripted,” Mason says, his voice edged with concern.
“Nobody’s going to find out,” I say with confidence. “There are no texts or DMs that can be leaked. And Twila sure as hell isn’t going to tell anyone because she’d be just as culpable as me. So, unless you three intend to blab it to the world, I’m safe.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Stone says, kicking my foot. “You know we’d never do that.”
“I know,” I say with a laugh. “And I trust Twila to only tell the peopleshetrusts implicitly. We’re safe. I promise.”
“Okay,” Mason says like he’s conceding, then crosses his arms over his bare, sweat-dampened chest. “We just don’t appreciate being ignored.”
I roll my eyes at the way he feigns hurt feelings. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”
“Good,” he says, his faux bad mood evaporating. “I’m going to go hit the shower.”
“Damn it, Mason. I said I was going first,” Stone says, following him from the room as they bicker.
“It really has over a million views?” Ritchie asks once we’re alone.
