Page 34 of Official

Sam joins me at the front and takes a bag, freeing my hand, which I place on the small of her back as we exit the little shack.

“I invested so much time in Jason. What was I thinking? I based a chunk of my business on a relationship that wasn’t even going anywhere.” Sam frowns. “What am I supposed to do with all my merchandise? I literally have an entire line of apparel centered around this whole idea of a mysterious boyfriend.”

“You didn’t know it wouldn’t lead anywhere.”

“Over the last week, I’ve started to feel like I did. Part of me always knew, and I should’ve ended things before they ever began.” She waves her free arm up and down over her body, the flimsy tank top she wears over her swimsuit rising as we walk. “Besides, have you seen or heard me cry over him? He’s the longest relationship I’ve ever been in. I should’ve cried at least once.”

Although I get her point, I don’t outwardly agree with her since I’m selfishly happy she’s not wasting tears on that fucker.

“It’s hard to cry on this island.” I spread my arms out and use the bottle of margarita from the café to point at the palm trees.

She comes to an abrupt stop, whirling toward me. “If he meant anything to me like I once thought, I would’ve cried. Not even watching the most brilliant sunset from the beach with a glass of rosé in my hand would’ve stopped me.”

I sigh. “If you ask me, you’re more upset by the backlash of the viral video than the breakup with Jason, which says a lot. And it’s a good thing you’re not together anymore, but it’s not okay for him to talk to you like he did in those texts.”

“Oh, he’ll pay for that. But what do I do about my business? What the hell am I supposed to do now? If I don’t come up with something seriously inspiring, funny, and mind-blowing, I’m going to take a hit larger than if a meteor struck me down right this second.”

My laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it, but I choke it down once her glare bores into me. “What? That was funny,” I mutter as I jog to catch up to her.

We resume our short walk toward the hotel, but our steps are much slower than they were on the way to the beach earlier.

“I sell so much merchandise with the logohashtag Gym Bae. Not just more than I expected, but it’s enough to cover my rent and then some. My followers are obsessed with the mystery of who it could be. From what I’ve gathered from those remaining online and interested, they’re guessing it’s Jason since he’s in the video. Most don’t know who he is and are disappointed it’s not a movie star like Ian Brock, or someone of that caliber. Why they think I have connections to Hollywood stars is beyond me.” She laughs, but it’s sad. “Others are giddy no matter what, but some arehashtag Team Jason. The latter really fucking stings.”

We reach our hotel with plenty of daylight left, and I rack my brain for a solution to her issue. Anything to show people who he really is—an asshole.

And who she really is—a light in the world of social media.

I’d do anything to help Sam get back to the glow she had while sitting in the hammock last night. The laugh she lets loose when Teddy and I tell her how gross vegetables are.

The spark in her spirit when she’s at the gym.

I’ve watched many of her videos online, and even through the camera lens, I can tell it’s more than a job to her. Her career cannot end this way.

In my room, she tosses her beach tote onto the couch and paces. “I know I can’t make everyone happy, but this feels like I’ve duped my followers, which many have pointed out already. Some even cut up their shirts to show their disapproval, and I haven’t even confirmed or denied anything.” She wraps her arms around her midsection. “I just wish there was something I could do to turn this around. Save face. Show them I’m not a greedy manipulator who’s simply after sales and followers. I mean, it was supposed to be for fun, and one innocent mistake just threw the whole thing—”

“Say it’s me,” I blurt, blinking rapidly.

What the hell did I just say?

“What?” She stops and faces me, her expression blank.

I quickly run through a mental flow chart, placing the pieces of this insane puzzle together like I rearrange Post-It notes on the wall when I’m trying to flesh out a plot.

But if it’ll help Sam—and I think it will—I’ll do it.

“Tell them you and Jason were just friends from the fitness industry, but any connection has been severed in light of recent events. The real mystery guy is me.”

“How is that better? I’d still be lying.”

“Or it’s a friend”—I point to myself, then her—“getting another friend out of trouble. This is your business. Your reputation. You shouldn’t get burned because of asshatDouche.”

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, tugging and pulling with hesitation as she paces in front of the bed again. On top of the floral bedspread are bags of clothes from the hotel gift shop. Each item is a bright color, and they all spill out of the bags in chaos, which is how I feel.

If she goes along with this idea, we’d be unleashing a hell of a lot of chaos—a mess that’s not easily cleaned up.

I need to call this off. Tell her I’m kidding. Brainstorm other ways to fix her situation.

But instead of being rational, what do I do? I step toward her and grab her hand like I’m asking her to fucking marry me. “Hear me out. I’m best friends with your brother, so you didn’t want to out us until you knew we were serious, which as far as they need to know, we are. Take it from me, people fucking love their forbidden and taboo romances. They’ll eat this shit up.”

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