Page 3 of The Last Love Story
I wheezefor a breath as I snort-laugh into my wineglass.
It’s possible I’ve had too much to drink.
My friends, Zoey and Trish, are doing the exact same thing, though. So either we’ve all had too much to drink or I should open another bottle because we’re still coherent enough to tell stories that make us laugh like hyenas.
Zoey’s was something about her douche-husband. No. Ex-douche. No. Her ex-husband who is a flaming douche. With all the bells and whistles, including misogyny and homophobia.
I never really met him other than in passing, but the way she describes him paints the only picture I need. That tracks, though, since like me, Zoey is also a romance author.
We were lucky enough to connect when a bookstore had a signing for local authors a few years back. She lives in the neighboring town of Lacy Creek, which is slightly bigger than my tiny two-stoplight town of Woods Junction.
It’s an adorable little town, and the inspiration for the towns in many of my stories.
I glance at my phone, then resist the urge to check on my sales and how much money I’ve made today. I’m trying to break the habit of checking daily now that I have a more consistent success and income level, but it’s hard not to. It took years and my backlist grew a lot faster than my income, but I’ve found better ways to promote my niche stories lately, and over the last year am making a full-time income, but barely. Once I factor in paying for my own health insurance and all my business costs, I’m still low income, but I’m so much happier than I was when I was working full or part time doing anything else. It’s just trickier to invest in my business how I want to right now, but I’m hoping as I continue to grow, it’ll get easier.
I pull my hand back.I’m not going to check.But then my phone goes off, and… was it listening?
I snag it off the table, but what I find is not some magical report on my sales, but a bunch of social media notifications. I go to swipe them all away, but freeze with my thumb above one of the notifications.
“Oh my god,” I squeak.
Zoey and Trish are immediately at attention.
“What is it?” Zoey asks. “Did someone tag you in something mean? I’ll cut them.”
I laugh at that, but it comes out more nervous than playful. “No. It’s, ah… Justin Ayers followed me.”
Trish drops her phone. “Justin Ayers. Like the super-hot cover model and new favorite romance narrator?”
“Yep.”
“Well, was it a follow back? Like you followed him? He might like supporting authors.”
He has over three hundred thousand followers. Somehow, I doubt he follows back every author who follows him. Plus… “I’m not following him.”
Trish’s brows fly up. “You’re not? But why? I know you love at least five books he’s narrated.”
“Yes, but I don’t… know him.”
Zoey laughs a little at this. She gets it more than Trish does. Sometimes you choose not to follow certain people because you don’t want to look like you’re desperate or trying to get something or another fangirl.
Or, in my case, because I might have a stupid parasocial crush on him. It’s totally ridiculous. We’ve never met. The only reason I have a crush on him is because his voice makes me melt. Sure, he’s hot too. Tall, blond, and ripped with stunning blue eyes. But that’s not what really matters. Either way, it’s ridiculous. Having a crush on someone you don’t actually know is a recipe for disaster. For all I know, he might be a total asshole in real life. I don’t actually know him. So I didn’t follow him.
Trish leans in, whispering like the walls might have ears. “Wait. Do you actually know Pedro Pascal and Taylor Swift? Have you been holding out on us?” She gives me a mischievous smirk. While she can pretend to be the idiot, she’s probably the smartest of the three of us. She works as a college librarian and is all brainy bookworm with the looks of a model. Some people are truly blessed.
No.
Being thin is not the ideal body shape, no matter what the world says. Trish is gorgeous, but so is Zoey, who, like me, is curvy or plus size or fat or whatever the correct term is—whatever one is used to make people comfy or that was once bad and we’ve taken back. I’m the biggest of the three of us, and though I’d like to say I never think about that, I obviously do. It’s not that I want to. I’m working on healing from my body image issues, and I’ve come a long way. For the first time in my life, I have a lot of peace about my body and truly see myself as beautiful. But that doesn’t stop the negative thoughts from filtering in, and sometimes I have to sit with them for a few minutes before I can shut them down and move on.
It’s an old habit to assume anyone who looks pretty has it all, when I know well enough that Trish doesn’t. As amazing as she is, she’s a real human, and I don’t want to give in to the comparison shit, especially with my friends.
Okay, mini meltdown over.
“Should I follow him back now?”
“Do you want to?” Zoey asks.
I wanted to before, but again, I didn’t want to do the parasocial creepy crush thing. But if he followed me first, that negates it, right? I’m following back because I enjoy his work and he followed me. We’re in the same industry, we can support each other.
