Page 35 of The Game Plan

Looks like tubby found a butterface.

She’s thick, he’s huge. Wonder how that works?

Uglies bumping uglies. How fitting.

Why is she slumming it withhim?

My vision goes red and then black. I hate them. I hate this. I want to reach through my phone and shake the people on the other end of the screen. I want to punch them. I want to punch everyone. And then I want to curl up in a ball and dwell in the misery. Sometimes it’s worse that they’re all anonymous comments. There’s nobody I can challenge outright.

And Sam… they’re talking about me, which is bad enough, but now they’re bringing her into it. My hands clench so hard around my phone my knuckles go numb. I want to call out every single one of these fuckers. I want to punch them all until they’re bleeding in the brain. I want to—

“I told you not to look,” she says sadly.

“How are you? How has it been?”

Does she have as many comments on her own handle? The ones on mine are equally disparaging and clapping me on the back for scoring such a catch.

“It’s not great,” she finally says, worrying her lip with her teeth. My gaze focuses on her mouth and that rock in the pit of my stomach sinks heavier. I tear my eyes away. Now is not the time to get distracted.

“I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry she’s getting hateful comments online. I’m sorry she’s getting lumped in with me. I’m sorry people are dicks. I’m sorry that her private life is being exposed online like it’s some sort of game. I’m sorry that associating with me is dragging her down.

But mainly I’m sorry that I’m not sorry. She left with me. She went home withme. She wanted to hang out with me. I’m not sorry that we spent the evening together.

I just wish she wasn’t getting shit from idiots who don’t know when to keep their mouths shut.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Sam says quietly, earnestly. She touches my arm and sparks shoot up my veins and directly to my heart. “I have no regrets about Saturday night.”

There’s a lump in my throat. “But—”

“They’re assholes. They don’t know me. They don’t know you. They don’t know anything.” Her eyes flash with muted anger. “I don’t care what they think.”

“Fuck ‘em,” I tell her. “Fuck ‘em all.”

Her smile is still too sad. She can say it, but it’s clear she doesn’t believe it, not really.

“Exactly.”

Professor Cassidy breezes into the room. She takes her seat—she still wants to sit beside me?—and pulls out her notebook.

“We’re still on for tonight?” she murmurs quietly as he gets set up.

She wants to study with me? She still wants to be seen with me in public?

“The guys and I meet for dinner at six, if you want to join us,” I finally say.

She bites her lip. “I’ll be coming straight from a sorority meeting. My schedule is pretty packed today.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Tomorrow my day is wide open, if you want to meet up.”

YES! Yes, I want to hang out. Yes, I want to spend all my free time with her. How could I not? She’s perfect.

“Sounds cool,” I tell her, totally chill.

The smile she sends me is radiant. It buoys me all through class, through my workout, and through dinner with the guys. Nothing can bring me down when she’s smiling at me, not even stupid internet comments. She wants to spend time with me. She wants to hang out with me.

---