Page 28 of Anxious Hearts
‘I want dinner.’
Finn laughed. ‘Okay, you want to cook, or ’gram?’
Kelly stood up and stared at him, deadpan. ‘For the second time tonight, I’m banning a word. Don’t ever say “’gram” to me again.’
Finn held up the phone. ‘Smile!’
Kelly laughed.
‘Perfect,’ Finn said. ‘Casual but presentable. Cool but not out of reach.’
Kelly grabbed the phone from his hand. The photo was good. She looked happy – another demonstration of the evil manipulation of social media. The most anxious, stressed and breakdown-ready student in her cohort looked happy. What a joke.
Finn subscribed to one of those meal-delivery services, so Kelly checked the instructions and gathered all the contents on the kitchen bench. She was an ordinary cook, so the step-by-step instructions required her full attention. As she cooked, she was vaguely aware of Finn moving around the apartment, walking and staring at her phone, muttering words, jotting notes on a piece of paper. She was disproportionately proud when she served up plates of turmeric fish with rice noodles and herbs that actually looked pretty close to the picture on the recipe card.
Finn barely glanced at his meal when she placed it in front of him. He cut through the fish and shovelled it into his mouth while talking to her. ‘I’ve written a few ideas down. Nothing too fancy. Best to keep your first post simple.’
Kelly cut up her fish with more decorum than her dinner partner and felt another thrill of pride when she discovered it tasted delicious. She read Finn’s first suggestion out loud through a mouthful. ‘“Thanks for all your support, guys! Quick meal and then it’s back to study!”’
Finn was staring at her like a puppy that had just fetched its stick and brought it back to its owner.
‘Have you thought about giving up acting and becoming an author?’ Kelly said.
Finn grunted. ‘It’s not as easy as it looks.’
‘No, I imagine writing something that naff would require a great deal of skill.’
Finn waved his fork at her. ‘It’s social media, Kel. It’s supposed to be naff.’
She read the other four suggestions but refrained from any further criticism. Finn’s mouth was just slightly turned down and he only did that when his feelings were hurt. Bloody men. So sensitive to the tiniest bit of criticism.
She knew Finn was only trying to help. And he was an expert at this stuff – he had something like three hundred thousand followers and Kelly knew he posted regularly from the stories he told her about his activity. She only ever half-listened. It was inane nonsense, after all.
A smiled formed on her own lips. ‘All right, Shakespeare. Let’s post the first message.’
Finn chewed slowly and deliberately. When he was done, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. ‘Apology accepted. I forgive you.’
‘I didn’t apologise.’
‘You never do.’
Kelly handed him her phone. ‘Because I’m never in the wrong.’
He shook his head as he typed. ‘Just as bloody difficult as you were when you were eleven years old.’
‘Since I was born, Finn.’
He handed her the phone. ‘There, done.’
Kelly looked at the photo and the caption and the hashtags Finn had added without her permission. ‘“Hashtag doctoring”?’
‘Naff is the name of the game.’
The phone bleeped a notification. And then another. And another. And another, until the app eventually gave up bleeping and just displayed the number of interactions on the post. It climbed quickly through the hundreds and into the thousands before Kelly could even place it down on the table. She leaned away like it was a poisonous snake as the numbers continued to soar.
Finn puffed out his cheeks. ‘Impressive doctoring, Kel. Looks like you’re more naff than you realised.’
***
