Page 74 of Official

SAMANTHA

“Ow,” I mumble as I try to raise the plate onto the bar using one hand.

My other is wrapped up from Rico’s assault, and it’s made me rearrange my workouts. Instead of doing shoulders and arms today like I’d originally planned, I’m sneaking a leg workout into my schedule.

Which turns out perfectly since leg days are the best days. It’s why I sell tanks and cropped shirts with that phrase plastered across the chest. I’m not alone in my thinking, either, since it’s my third bestselling item.

I have yet to figure out what to do about my top selling one.

The #GymBae merch is still selling like crazy, and my website has even crashed a few times from the overload of visitors in the last week.

I should be stoked. Over the moon. Throwing myself a party every night with those numbers.

But all I did last night was drink, and this morning, I nursed my wounded hand like I did my ego.

With all of Rico’s excitement, I didn’t have the time or energy to make the video I promised Xander I would. Jason and his followers are still tagging me for a response to his video, provoking me into playing their stupid games.

All so that Jason can gain a few new fans at my expense.

Just like Xander.

The video outing our little ploy is sure to get him major sympathy points. They’ll leave my page and flock to his like magnets.

So many people are against me right now for what started out as an honest mistake. There are so many more who have forgiven me and forgotten all about it, and although I’m trying to focus on them since they’re the ones who matter, I’m losing my fucking patience—and mind.

“You could tell the truth. The whole story,” Val suggested last night after the party, and now her words run through my mind like they’re on a loop or in an Instagram boomerang.

Over and over.

The freaking truth.

I want to do that, but how? What would I actually say? And what then—everyone moves on?

People obviously don’t let things go very easily.

A month ago, I was happy and successful, and now all I do is try to pick up the pieces of a broken business.

The worst part about it all is… Xander.

I let him and myself down, and I lost him.

That’s where the truth lies, doesn’t it? With Xander Logan.

And if I share every last detail of us, it’ll just mean it’s really over. That the ending of our trip was the end of what we had.

That’s the realization I had last night while I talked to Val. I’m reluctant to give us up, no matter what arguments we’ve had. No matter what mistakes we’ve made.

I’m not afraid of my followers moving on and forgetting the whole thing—I’m concerned about doing this myself because I refuse to believe Xander isn’t the one for me.

The honest truth is that I miss him.

I miss laughing with him. Making silly bets and teasing each other.

I miss being in his arms.

“Focus,” I mutter to myself and duck under the bar until it rests across my shoulders. I push onto my toes to unrack the weight and walk it backward, each step steady and strong.

Inhaling, I sink into a squat, my quads screaming as I reach the bottom of my position, and I rise again on an exhale. The only thing I think about while I complete my set is my body and my breathing.

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