Page 17 of Fun at Parties
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy connecting with riders on social media. My content is mostly fitness-adjacent—cute workout clothes, aesthetically pleasing smoothie ingredients, playlists. Obviously, Caleb and I gave some glimpses into our relationship, but it was mostly surface-level. And mostly bullshit.
That’s why I never shared as much as he did. Too much of the personal online has always felt performative. It reminds me of Mom taking forty-five photos to make sure her CartierLovebracelet was visible for a Facebook post on “reaching your potential the Jolee way!”
But CycleLove’s top instructors are good at getting people attached to them in class and then furthering that attachment online. They make themselves indispensable to their riders’ lives, which makes them indispensable to the company.
Developing a brand that goes beyond “cadence ninety, resistance forty-five” would be huge for me. Butthis? Jilted and jolly about it?I know Caleb cheated on, ditched, and humiliated you publicly, but can you find a way to make itfun?How can Tracy ask that of me?
“Quinn!” Logan calls from outside. “Time for the S’more War!”
The tightness in my chest is pinning down my lungs.Told you,Michelle would say.She’s manipulative.She once said Tracy would do anything to make it to the c-suite. I brushed it off; Tracy wants to do right by us, and it’s not bad that she’s ambitious.
But manipulative is exactly how it feels. Shepreemptivelywent to the higher-ups to pitch this approach without running it by me first, which backs me into a corner. I can’t say no. I thought she cared, but right now I feel like a pawn.
I struggle to make sense of it. Tracy is getting a lot of heat from the executives these days as they try to drive subscription numbers. I guess two things can be true at once: She’s exploiting my situation, and she believes that it’s going to work in my favor. I just need to buy some time to get a handle on it.
Tracy, that’s great news. And it’s nice to virtually meet you, Summer! I’ve got a plan for the social media stuff, though. This trip is going to be a content gold mine, and I promise it won’t be all hikes. In fact, speaking of Internet personalities, I’m currently hanging out with a friend who’s well-known from The Beach House, and we have some fun ideas. Look out for new posts ASAP!
There. A pinch of shame snags me when I click send. I’m lyingandusing Logan. I hope I can figure out how to follow through without Nate noticing, because I can’t handle the judgmental, impatient face he’ll make if he catches me distracted by my phone, flipping back andforth between two different Instagram filters. I saw it enough during the month I lived with him and Ravi.
Pushing Internet fame to the side, I lift my chin and stride back onto the deck to focus on the task at hand: stuffing a bunch of sugar into my mouth. It’s not easy, with how shaken I feel, but I do my best. After an intense debate, Nate votes old-school, Logan votes upscale, and I split the baby: regular graham cracker and marshmallow with the fancy chocolate.
After that, the distractions fade. Nate’s in the Adirondack chair across from me, his face glowing as he silently twirls his marshmallow stick in his hands. Logan sits between us, watching the sky darken around the trees with an unusually pensive look on his face. The rhythmic chirp of crickets surrounds us. With every quiet second, it becomes harder to ignore the tightness in my chest and the jittery sensation in my limbs.
“Are you bored yet?” I ask Logan. “Since you haven’t been going out lately?”
He shrugs. “It’s a bummer, because I’m missing out on a lot of fun things. But I need this. It’s gotten hard to ignore what people are saying about me. Partly because they’re being harsh, and partly because I like it too much. The attention.” His knee bounces. “It’s dangerous, you know? I need to figure out what I’m doing next. No more TV, but I know I’d die of boredom if I had to go back to my old job. I have to decidesomethingsoon. I even got rid of my phone this morning, to avoid distractions. I mailed it to my parents’ house.”
“Seriously?” I ask.
He pats his empty pockets and grins.
His lack of concern about the practical challenges of traveling without a phone leave me sputtering. “What about maps? Uber? Messaging? QR code menus?”
He shrugs.
“What if Kendrick Lamar releases a new Drake diss track and you have no way to listen to it?”
At that, his grin drops a little. “I guess I’ll have to wait until I get home.”
Nate raises his eyes from the fire. “Have you thought about moving back there? Settling down a bit?”
Logan’s face shutters. “Nah, man. Let’s just have a chill night. I’ll figure out my life tomorrow.”
“We should talk about it, though. It’s important.”
“Later.” Logan’s voice is laced with irritation. He turns to me. “Anyway. What have you been up to since you got here?”
“Uh.” I look between the two of them, bewildered. Nate told me they had something to work on together, but it’s clear that Logan has no interest in talking about anything serious. “I went for a hike. It was…challenging. The scenery was beautiful.”
“Damn. Did you think it was hard, Nate?”
Nate breaks off a piece of chocolate and tosses it into his mouth. “I didn’t go.”
“What? Why not? If you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to keep up with Quinnie…well, you were probably right.”
My blister throbs. “An elderly snail could’ve kept up with me near the end.”
“So what did you do instead?” Logan asks Nate, his face wrinkled in confusion.
