Page 64 of Stacked
After we’d set up the interview withGood Morning USA, Robert drove us back to The Green Frog. My head was still buzzing, still rolling over all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. And when we arrived, a lot of activity was outside the store too, including more people than I had ever seen lined up out front. I told Robert to park near the back entrance.
“I can’t remember a time when we’ve had this many people here,” I admitted. “Not even when we were kids.”
“I knew they’d come.” Robert slid his car into one of the unused employee parking spots and turned off the engine. “Even though I’m hoping the younger kids haven’t seen the video.”
“How do you... how do you think we should handle this?”
“There’s probably no right or wrong way. Just be friendly.” He cupped my chin. “You know, the exact opposite of how you were with me when we reconnected.”
“You were a threat,” I said, deadpanning so he’d know I was joking this time. “What can I say? I have an active fight-or-flight response.”
“And I triggered the fight side.”
I shrugged, raising my eyebrow. “But you know that’s not what you trigger now.”
“Nope.” He moved a little closer, straining over the car console. “And I have to say, I’m damn glad about that, Anya. Damn glad.”
We kissed again, this time more familiar with the way our bodies would respond to each other, but the embrace still felt tinged with fire, ignited with extra kerosene to deepen our connection. I wanted to keep it going, to taste his mouth on mine all night, to do nothing but kiss him in the car until the sunrise.
But I couldn’t.
I was the first one to pull away. “As good as you taste, we have fans to meet.”
He nodded. “Think they’ll want our autographs?”
“Probably.” I opened my car door. “And to pose for photos too.”
We got out and walked into the store, creeping up the back staircase and through the delivery entrance. I heard the crowd immediately, along with Morgan’s frantic but strained voice, as she tried to ring up sales and corral them as best she could. God, she really was making a play for friend of the century, and I knew with each passing moment that whatever bachelorette party I threw in the coming weeks, it wouldn’t be the sufficient thank-you she deserved for being so compassionate and willing to help us.
“Let’s make a big entrance,” I said as we approached the curtain dividing the front part of the store with the storage rooms. “We can really milk this if we do it right.”
“I see. You’re getting into this a little more than you wanted to let on.” Robert pulled me closer and massaged my back. “Like I said, this doesn’t have to be so bad. We can see it for the opportunity it is.”
“Just never expected to be on this side of fame.” I snuggled against his chest. “But with you it all feels so different.”
“Later, I’m going to show you how different,” Robert whispered. “But for now, it’s showtime.”
Holding hands, we walked into the main part of the store, and as soon as we did, the energy seemed to shift. The place was packed. Morgan oversaw a long line of customers ready to check out their purchases, and dozens more browsed the shelves of curated new releases and matching merchandise. A few had stacks of books in their hands, and many were people I didn’t know.
And when they saw us, they mobbed us.
“I loved your video,” a woman with short gray hair and thick black glasses said as she fumbled in her purse with her free hand. “Do you think we can get a photo? My grandson won’t believe it when I tell him you were here.”
“Sure,” I said.
We posed, and by the time it was over, a group was already behind her, also asking for photos. I knew a few of them, but not all.
What a trip this is—and it’s just getting started.
I glanced at Robert, who had somehow morphed from a hot, average guy to an oh-so-gorgeous-internet-famous guy. There was almost a special sheen to him as he relished this notoriety, using it as a superpower that enhanced everything about it. It was incredible.This is incredible.
“Do you have something you’d like me to sign?” I asked a reedy teenage girl standing a few feet away from me. “Or do you want a photo?”
“If that’s okay,” she asserted, her mouth covered in braces, her voice breaking a little as if she couldn’t contain her excitement. “I can’t wait to put this on my Instagram.”
I laughed. In almost ten years of using that app, I’d been tagged in about twenty posts. My life wasn’t glamorous or beautiful enough for that place, which had always been hyper-focused on stylized shots of parties, vacations, fashion, and other envy-inducing lifestyle moments. The daily rhythm of being a bookstore manager in a small Ohio town didn’t fit with that narrative, and my last post on the site got about five likes.
I tugged Robert’s elbow and motioned for him to step closer so we could take a photo with the girl. And as we smiled for it, I realized he was right. This was a huge opportunity, and it was only going to get better. For once, my life was on the upswing.
