My eyes glaze over more of the same, and I do what my parents have always told me todo.
I take abreath.
Remember thatthey don’t know me, they don’t knowus.
Repeatit.
They don’t knowus.
Their opinions are just opinions, and they don’t get to live inside my body and make my choices. The world watches my failures, my mistakes, and you criticize me and my relationship, but in the end, you don’t have the full picture. Just whatever narrative you’ve created in yourhead.
I glance at my boyfriend. He keeps scrolling through the comments, his cool exterior not shaken, but his eyes seem to tighten. So something’s troublinghim.
I extend my left arm across his back and hold his shoulder. “They don’t know us,” I tell Farrow. “They’ll never reallyknowus.”
He pauses scrolling. “I don’t understand why they’d say that I’m in it for the fame. I’ve barely been on your social media sofar.”
Since I’ve been dealing with the auction, I haven’t posted a lot in the past two weeks. The pictures on my Instagram of him are thelovers like usphoto from my parent’s vow renewal and one where he’s cooking breakfast. I haven’t even recorded an Instagram story with Farrowyet.
“They’ll make up anything off nothing,” I say, but I notice how he’s fixated on anotherfame whorecomment. “That’s what’s getting toyou?”
Farrow scrolls again. “It’s all eating at me differently, but people questioning my intentions with you is probably my least favorite thing.” He glares at another comment on a different article. “I’m protective of you, wolf scout, and the thought of people believing I’m fuckingyou over…” His jaw muscletics.
It’s not sitting well withhim.
Before I can reply, Farrow adds, “See, I understand how this works: I appear on your social media more, I only strengthen their ‘he’s in it for the fame’ bullshit, butfuck.” He lets out a deep, aggravatedbreath.
There is no permanentfix.
After being around my family, he knows this too. People will always believe what they want to believe—and it’ll hurt. With the rumors about my paternity, I felt like I needed to scream andscreamfor people to hearme.
I still have to talk about the truth. How my dad is Loren Hale. And I’ll occasionally wear red to honor him. Like now, I consciously chose aredsling. But using my voice is the best thing I can do. It’s whyWe Are Callowayexists.
My sore arm falls to his hip. “I was going to ask you to do an Instagram video with me, but if you’d feel better backing away from social media, I’dunderstand.”
I’d be okay with whatever he decides since this is new for him and since my world is the thing that’s drastically changing hislife.
“I don’t have to post pictures ofus—”
“No,” Farrow says, shutting off my phone. He rotates to face me, resting his forearm on the shelf, and he opens his mouth to speak, but I’m alreadytalking.
“Joining me in videos, posting more pictures together, it won’t change public perception in the way you want,” I remindhim.
“It’ll most likely make it worse,” Farrow agrees. “I’m ready for that, wolf scout.” He runs his thumb over his lippiercing.
“You sure?” Iask.
Farrow notices me watching his hand, and his lips begin to lift beneath his thumb. He moves that hand to the back of myneck.
His grip feels better thangood.
And his gaze plunges into me. “When I love someone,” he says in a rough whisper, “I love themproudly, and you deserve the achingly normal, romantic shit more than anyone. Everything you’ve never had. All the pictures you post, all the videos you do on your own, I want to be in them—and it’d kill me not to give you that. Especially now that we’republic.”
The declaration overwhelms me. I swallow the ball in my throat. And I zero in on how fast that was for Farrow. “Just like that?” I ask, my brows cinching. “You didn’t even think aboutit.”
“Because I do what I feelis right, not just what I thinkis right.” His hand ascends into my hair, and mine is on a descent to his backpocket.
Farrow listened to his instincts, and I’ve been ignoring mine that have screamed at me for weeks onend.