Page 4 of Official

“That doesn’t mean shit. People are fucking crazy when it comes to followers these days. Did you know a hotshot influencer was mobbed at a grocery store last week? Hisfollowersbroke his rib and chipped a tooth.”

I study him. “That didn’t happen.”

“It did! You think I just made that up? I’m a storyteller now? That’s Xander’s job.”

“Even if you’re right, all that incident proves is that Jason is trying to protect me by keeping us a secret. You should respect that.” I give him a smug smile.

Isogot him there.

“Fine. Forget the influencer—that’s probably fake, anyway. But believe this: Jason is bad news.” Teddy leans on the counter, and the tattoos on his upper arms peek out from under his short sleeves. It’s just enough to make out the tip of a flower petal, and if he’d raise the fabric any higher, I’d see the rest of a lily.

“You just don’t like me dating anyone.” I roll my eyes.

“Well, sure, but I really don’t like that asshole. It’s even in his fucking name, sis. Jason Douche.” He grimaces like he just ate one of my healthy meals.

“It’s Douché, like touché, and you know it.” I drop my arms to my sides. “I’m going to get dressed.”

“Okay, but I’m changing the music. Your tunes make me want to cry.”

Walking backward, I try to fight my smile and my sarcasm, but fail miserably. “Have I told you how happy I am that you’re here?”

“Don’t need to. It’s written all over your face.”

On the way to my room, I pick my phone up from the coffee table and gasp when I look at it… and the hundred notifications littering my screen.

“What? You don’t like James Taylor? Because if you tell me you don’t, we have to have a serious talk.”

I barely register what he says, along with the change of music. It’s all muffled as I open my Instagram app and scroll the comments on my latest post—the one I didn’t realize I even shared.

The video of me in my purple fucking see-through leggings and my leopard fucking thong on display.

“Sam?” Teddy approaches me and waves a hand in front of my face. “Hello?”

“Oh my God.” I watch the end of the unedited video, where Jason comes into the frame, and I cover my mouth. “Oh my freaking God.”

Underneath the posts are various comments, ranging from sleazy to pearl-clutching judgmental.

Sweet cheeks, lady.

Bring that ass (and thong) over here later.

Gross. This is borderline porn. Unfollowing.

“Okay, now you’re scaring me.” Teddy wiggles the phone out of my white-knuckled grip, and his eyes widen. “What is this?”

“That would be my very own Janet Jackson scandal.” I run my hands through my damp hair as I slowly break out of my shock-induced trance.

“You can see your entire ass!” Teddy throws the phone onto the couch like it’s poisonous, then covers his face with both hands. “My eyes!”

“Seriously?” I screech and run to the phone. Scooping it up, I fumble with it and open my Instagram again. “Delete it. I need to delete it. Where is the damn delete option?” I ramble under my breath until I find the button, but it takes more attempts than necessary to push it since my trembling fingers keep clicking on the wrong thing. “There. The post is gone. It’s fine.” I toss my phone back onto the couch and shrug.

I turn to Teddy and find him still rubbing his eyes.

“You can open your eyes now,child.” I wrap my arms around my midsection, subtly tightening the robe around me.

“I know.” He groans, and he continues blinking like the time he got sand in his eyes during our friendly game of beach volleyball last week. “But I accidentally stabbed myself with my finger when I went to cover them the first time.”

“Like I said—you’re a child.” I snicker and go to my room to change, my nerves still rattled.

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