Follow Me

by Kathleen Barber

  My ringing phone interrupted my thoughts, and I glanced down at the screen and smiled. It was as if thinking about Nick had actually conjured him, like some sort of sexy Beetlejuice.

  “Nicky,” I purred into the phone. “I was just thinking about you.”

  “And here I was, thinking you didn’t care at all. You didn’t even bother to tell me you were moving to town.”

  “You seem to have found out.”

  “You’re not exactly discreet, you know. Although I did expect you to call.”

  “The phone works both ways, babe. You could have called me.”

  “I am calling you.”

  “Well, you have my most heartfelt apologies for not alerting you to my relocation.” I dropped my voice slightly. “Maybe you want to come over so I can show you just how sorry I am.”

  “I think that might do the trick,” he said, a smile in his voice. “Text me your address.”

  “Doing it now. See you soon.”

  * * *

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Nick was ducking through my stooped doorway. Warmth flooded my body, and I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling too broadly. I would die if Nick knew that his presence still melted me, even seven years after we had officially broken up.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said, clear blue eyes twinkling as he surveyed my boxes, half-empty wine bottle, and open container of animal crackers.

  “Oh, shut up, Nick,” I said, playfully punching him in the arm. “I’ve only been here two weeks. Which I’m sure you know since you’ve been stalking me on social media.”

  “It’s not stalking when you put it out there, Aud.”

  “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

  He flashed me the same teasing smirk that had won me over sophomore year in college. When I first met Nick, he had been upside down, his hands clenching the sides of a keg and a hose in his mouth. It hadn’t been a flattering angle, but even then I could tell he was handsome. With my arms crossed over my chest and one eyebrow arched, I’d waited for the guys holding his legs to right him.

  “Wow,” I had said drily. “That’s hot.”

  Totally unfazed, he had brushed his golden hair from his eyes and smirked. “I assume you’re next?”

  It was the first and last time I attempted a keg stand.

  “Well, this isn’t exactly the Castle, is it?” Nick said, referencing the nickname for my old sorority house.

  “Not exactly. But it’ll do for now. I think the place just needs a little bit of light.”

  “And some furniture. Are the movers bringing that later or something?”

  “Or something,” I admitted. “I don’t actually own any.”

  “What about all that stuff in your apartment back in New York?”

  “It was all Izzy’s. I’m going to have to buy new stuff, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

  “Well, you know there’s an IKEA over in College Park, right? It might not be glamorous enough for a social media star like yourself—”

  I stuck my tongue out and poked him in the ribs; he lightheartedly batted me away.

  “—but let me know if you want a ride over there or need my help assembling furniture or anything. I don’t like to brag, but I’m pretty handy with an Allen wrench.”

  “I may take you up on that, considering I don’t even know what an Allen wrench is.”

  “Of course you don’t,” he said with a laugh, and shook his head. “Someone’s always built your furniture for you, haven’t they?”

  I shrugged. “When you’re this pretty …”

  “Modest, too.”

  “You know me.”

  “I do,” he said softly, reaching out and wrapping a lock of my strawberry-blonde hair around his fingers, tugging slightly. “You’re letting your hair grow again. I like it.”

  “You don’t look so bad yourself,” I said, surveying his athletic build, tan skin, and neat blond hair. Teasingly, I pinched the flesh on his tight midsection. “You’ve put on a little weight, but you carry it well.”

  “Shut up, Audrey,” he said throatily, wrapping a strong arm around my waist, pulling me close, and lowering his lips onto my smiling mouth.

  Kissing Nick was easy, comfortable. Even though our relationship had come to an end when we graduated, Nick always called when he was up in New York and we saw each other a few times a year. I once told him that being with him was like riding a bike—no matter how much time passed, I could always remember how our mouths, our bodies, fit together. He had given me a strange look, mildly perturbed at being compared to a man-powered vehicle, but hadn’t disagreed.

  I snaked a hand up underneath his T-shirt, tracing his muscles and lingering on the left shoulder blade I knew was marked by a poorly conceived tattoo. I felt a little bad about that. I had been with him in the Fort Lauderdale tattoo parlor, both of us slightly buzzed on rum and sun, and I should have told him not to take the tattoo artist’s word that the Chinese character he pointed to meant “brave.” I should have told him that getting a tattoo he couldn’t read was a terrible idea.

  But Nick should have told me not to tattoo a random line of poetry on the inside of my wrist. He should have pointed out that my obsession with Edna St. Vincent Millay was new and likely fleeting, and he would have been right.

  “So,” Nick said, pulling away slightly, his lips swollen. “You got a bed in here anywhere, or have you just been sleeping on a pile of boxes?”

  “Let me give you the grand tour,” I said, tucking my fingers into his waistband and pulling him toward my bedroom.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  HIM

  At home, I sat on my couch, staring at Audrey’s most recent Instagram post while holding a newly acquired container of animal crackers on my lap. One by one, I pressed the misshapen beasts against the roof of my mouth before crushing them between my molars, savoring the taste, knowing that the inside of her mouth tasted just like this: bland, slightly sweet, faintly lemony. I closed my eyes as I chewed, rolling my tongue through partially masticated cracker, thinking of the warm, wet interior of her mouth and her perfect rosebud lips.

  The thought ignited a series of explosions beneath my skin, miniature bursts that toed the line between pain and pleasure. I focused on the glimmer of Audrey’s hair, the pale glow of her skin, and then dragged a hand up my bare arm. My overstimulated flesh crackled and burned, just the way it did when I was near her.

  Her physical perfection captivated me, and her sparkling personality spoke to my very soul. Still, there was something faintly dangerous about her, a warning in her flame-streaked hair and seductive turquoise eyes. She will ruin you, a voice deep in my subconscious cautioned, but it was too late. She had ruined me already.

  I wanted nothing other than her, wouldn’t, couldn’t stop until the drumbeat of her heart reverberated against my own chest for all time.

  For now, I put another animal cracker in my mouth.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  AUDREY

  The first time a follower recognized me, I was half-naked in the Equinox locker room. I’d just finished an intense HIIT class, and I was so sweaty that my skin felt slick and my eyes stung. As I peeled my soaked Lululemon tank from my body, a ponytailed, college-aged woman in neon-pink exercise pants bounced up to me.

  “You’re Audrey Miller!” she announced, beaming.

  “That’s me,” I said, offering an exhausted smile and desperately wishing I’d taken more care with my hair that morning. I’d tied it up in a sloppy topknot before class, and I could feel the weight of it tugging against the elastic, surely pulling strangely across my scalp.

  Pink Pants turned to a pair of women across the locker room and called, “Danielle! Reina! Come over here! I told you it was Audrey Miller!”

  Her friends in similarly bright-hued workout gear surrounded me, telling me how much they loved my blog, loved my hair, loved my Stories. They pulled out bedazzled iPhones and pleaded to take selfies with me; I made them
wait until I’d showered. I half expected them to have vanished before I emerged in my towel, but there they were, eagerly waiting, phones in hand. Their enthusiasm was overwhelming.

  I fucking loved it.

  When I’d relayed the encounter to Izzy, she’d smiled lightly and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, my best friend, the narcissist.” She’d claimed she was just joking, but I knew she wasn’t. I didn’t care, though. Being recognized like some sort of celebrity was the best high I’d ever experienced.

  So when I was rushing to a spin class one evening and heard my name, I thrilled. I adjusted my ponytail, pasted my most welcoming smile on my face, and turned to greet my fans. I was surprised to see Cat’s friend Connor waving at me from one of the sidewalk tables outside Columbia Brews. A white coffee mug sat on the table in front of him, and the sleeves of his light blue button-down shirt were pushed up in the sweltering heat.

  “Audrey, hi,” he said, smiling genially and rising to greet me. “I thought that was you. I’m Cat Harrell’s friend Connor. We met at trivia the other week, remember?”

  “Sure, of course I remember,” I said, omitting the fact that I also remembered the moon eyes Cat made at him. The poor girl practically had a flashing neon sign above her head advertising that she was in love with him. When I’d called her out on it, she had turned a vivid fuchsia and wildly shaken her head. “The lady doth protest too much,” I had joked, but not even my lame Shakespeare could jostle loose the truth. I didn’t believe her repeated denials for a second. Connor was precisely her type: tall, smart, and falling just shy of handsome with his prominent Adam’s apple and wide-set, drooping eyes. They would make an adorable—if slightly awkward—couple.

  Cat will thank me later, I thought as I decided to play Cupid.

  “It was so nice of Cat to invite me to trivia,” I said. “It’s so hard moving someplace new, but Cat’s really gone out of her way to make me feel at home. She’s just so thoughtful.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “Harrell’s great.”

  I frowned at his tepid response. This was going to take more effort than I’d thought. “She really is. She—”

  “Hey, why don’t you sit down? Let me buy you a latte.”

  “Thanks, but I have a bike booked in twenty minutes. Besides, I can’t have caffeine this late in the day. It’ll keep me up, and then I’ll have to take a sleeping pill, and then I’ll be so tired I’ll drink more coffee, and it’s this whole vicious cycle.”

  He gestured to his cup and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “This is decaf.”

  “Is there even a point to decaf? Seriously.”

  He smiled slightly and shrugged. “There is when you’re meeting someone for coffee late in the day.”

  Alarm bells rang in my head. He was meeting someone for coffee? As in a date? Perhaps I should stick around to check out Cat’s competition. But before I could say I had changed my mind, another thought occurred to me: Why would he invite me to have a latte if he had a date?

  “Meeting someone?” I asked faux breezily. “Is that code for ‘Tinder date’? Are you meeting someone from online?”

  His cheeks colored, and that told me all I needed to know: he was definitely meeting a woman there, probably a first date. So the situation wasn’t ideal—I didn’t like that he was actively dating while referring to Cat as “great”—but it wasn’t completely hopeless. I was an excellent matchmaker—I’d introduced Jasmine to her now-husband, Hannah to her boyfriend, and Tatiana to her girlfriend. (I couldn’t—and gladly didn’t—take credit for Izzy and Russell.) I knew I could do the same for Cat. She was a good friend, and I wanted to help her.

  My phone buzzed, my reminder to get to spin class.

  “I have to run, but it was nice bumping into you. We’ll have to get together with Cat again,” I said, fully intending to make plans and then bow out at the last minute, leaving the two of them on a surprise date.

  “That would be great. See you around, Audrey.”

  I waved goodbye and walked to the intersection. While I waited to cross, I felt eyes boring into the back of my neck. I glanced over my shoulder at Connor, but he was preoccupied with his phone. I turned my attention back to the intersection, but as the light changed, I felt the same sensation once more. I hurried across the street and then whirled around, fully expecting to catch some creep ogling me.

  Instead, I found my face just inches from Nick’s strong chest.

  “Nick!” I squealed, laughing with relief even as my heart continued to pound. “You scared me! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  He smiled impishly. “You know how much I like to make you scream.”

  “You’re bad,” I said, socking him lightly in the stomach. “But what are you even doing over in this neighborhood? And don’t say you’re here to see me.”

  “Of course Little Ms. Vain thinks I’m here to see her,” he joked, ruffling my hair. “Nah, babe. I’m meeting a buddy for a drink down the street. Want to join?”

  “No way. The last time I joined you on one of your bro dates, I was subjected to two hours of nonstop fantasy football bullshit.”

  “I can assure you that won’t happen this time,” he said seriously before breaking into a huge grin. “It’s fantasy baseball season.”

  “How tragic that I’ve already booked a bike and will have to miss out,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Have fun with your fake sports, nerd.”

  “Speaking of nerds,” Nick said, nodding toward Connor, who was still engrossed in his phone outside Columbia Brews. “Who was that?”

  “Just a friend of Cat’s. You remember Cat from college?”

  He snorted. “That weirdo? How could I forget?”

  “Don’t be an asshole, Nick. Cat’s been good to me.”

  “Not as good as me,” he said, wrapping a thick arm around my midsection and pulling me close.

  “Don’t,” I protested, wriggling out of his grasp.

  He blinked, his normally overly confident smile wavering. “Audrey—”

  “Spin class, remember?” I danced a few steps away and then winked at him. “But maybe I’ll see you tonight?”

  His smile slowly returned. “I’ll definitely see you.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  HIM

  Audrey stopped at Columbia Brews for an almond milk latte, her long-standing drink of choice, every morning on her way to work. I knew this both because she regularly posted the coffee shop to her Instagram Stories and because I was sometimes waiting for her there. I sat in the back with a book of poetry propped in front of my face, my hair concealed beneath a Nationals baseball cap. I was hiding, yes, but I was also daring her to notice me. Observing her like this was dangerous, I knew. If caught, I could be risking our entire future. But I couldn’t help myself. I loved seeing her move through her daily routine.

  I watched as she waited for that morning’s almond milk latte, her elegant fingers tapping on her phone, pausing only to tuck some fiery strands of hair behind her ear. A collection of tiny gold earrings glittered in the light, and my mouth ached to kiss her soft earlobes, to work my tongue around each and every one of those delicate golden rings.

  When are you going to realize how much I love you?

  Being this close to her and not telling her how much I worshipped her was sometimes so painful I could feel my bone marrow sizzling, and yet I continued to torture myself. Someday soon I would find the words to tell her how I felt, to tell her that we belonged together, hearts beating in tandem, forever.

  I watched in despair as she walked out the door, drink in hand, head bent over her phone.

  She was gone.

  For now.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CAT

  Come on, Cat,” Audrey’s voice pleaded. “All work and no play makes Cat a dull girl.”

  Unbidden, Emily Snow manifested before me. Still a leggy thirteen years old and wearing her green-and-white Camp Blackwood T-shirt, she placed one dainty hand on a thin hip and used the other
to toss corn-silk hair over her shoulder. As if, she sneered. You’re so dull.

  “Go away,” I whispered to the apparition, squeezing my eyes shut.

  “What did you say?”

  I cracked an eye open and exhaled with relief. Emily was gone. She couldn’t hurt me anymore. She couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.

  “Nothing,” I said to Audrey, tucking my phone under my chin and glancing at the stack of cases on my desk. “I was talking to my assistant. Anyway, I’m really sorry, but—”

  “No way. I’m not taking no for an answer. You have to come celebrate me. A girl doesn’t get featured as an ‘Influencer to Watch’ in Glamour every day.”

  “I know, and I’m thrilled—”

  “Did you know I gained five thousand new followers today? Five thousand. This is huge, and, honestly, I think it’s partially because you’re rubbing off on me. All those nights you blow me off to work have inspired me to do the same. I totally owe you a glass of champagne or five. Hell, I owe you a whole bottle.”

  I didn’t point out the irony in her logic that she was encouraging me to slack off on my assignments in order to celebrate her newly acquired work ethic. Instead, I said, “Let’s have that bottle this weekend. Right now, I’m staring at a draft of a filing that’s due on Friday and—”

  “Friday?” she repeated. “That’s four whole days away! Come on, Cat. Please? Celebration is nonoptional, and I can’t do it alone. Meet me after work at Le Diplomate for a drink, okay? Just one, I promise.”

  My resolve crumbled. I knew how much Audrey hated being on her own. If I was a good friend, I should do what I could to spare her that discomfort. After all, she had always looked out for me. From that first day in the dorm’s common room to that awful Bid Day to any number of times Audrey had made sure I was included, she always took care of me. She was a good friend, the best friend. The least I could do was have a drink with her.

  * * *

  HOURS LATER, I felt guilty as I hurried uptown. I’d gotten stuck on a conference call, and Audrey hadn’t responded to my texts telling her I was running late. I imagined her sitting alone at the bar, glasses of champagne quickly losing their carbonation in front of her.