And the Feud Continues
“Alright, culinary Einstein. You started that food blog yet? Because you would rock that shit.”
“No, but I’m considering.” Brian smiles at Becca.
I touch his hand, resting it on the table, and his eyes lock with mine.
“Well, I’ll be damned if you two haven’t turned into a real couple over the weekend.” Becca shakes her head with a big grin on her face. “Landra, I know you told me, but that’s not as real as seeing it with my own eyes. I’m happy for you two. You are well suited for each other.” She smiles. “Now I need to find myself some kind of sexy nugget too.”
“Any luck with the prospects you had in mind?” I ask.
She presses her lips together. “Possibly. I’ll keep ya posted.”
“You do that,” I say.
Brian pulls out a loaf of bread. “Pumpkin bread with pumpkin spice butter.”
“Oh yeah, bless you, my cooking genius,” Becca says. “That sounds and looks fucking amazing.”
“It is. I kid you not.” He saws off a slice for each of us and spreads on the orange-colored butter.
I want to tell him to skip the butter, but I know better and keep my mouth shut. Both of them would tell me to shut up and eat it.
Becca takes the first bite. Then she says, “Freaking amazing. This is so good. Moist. Perfect.” She smiles. “I could eat that whole loaf myself.”
Brian looks at me. “My queen, please taste.”
I take a bite. She’s right. It’s more than divine, and despite my disdain for all things bread, I think I could eat that whole loaf myself too. “It’s delicious, Brian. You’ve done it again.” I show the enjoyment on my face on purpose.
“And that’s the look I’m going for,” he says.
Becca stands up. “And, I’m out. Give you two lovebirds a few minutes alone. Cut me one for the road, Brian?”
“My pleasure.” He slices it, and she snatches it like a two-year-old with a greedy smile.
“Later,” she says.
“Later,” I say.
“Tomorrow,” Brian says. “Same time, same place.”
Brian and I finish our bread and sneak in a kiss, which prolongs the taste of the bread. Wow, his love of food just might be rubbing off on me a bit. I smile. “That was yummy,” I say as I pull away.
“You aren’t kidding,” he says with a grin. “Whew!”
We pack up, both still smiling, and start down the hall. He lays his arm over my shoulders as we walk. Since my newfound celebrity from bullydom, I get more looks than I ever used to, and many eyes are glued on us as we stride along together. We stop at my locker, where I pull his head down to me and kiss him right in front of everyone. Staking a claim that yes, he and I are together, so fuck off, y’all.
He smiles as I release his face from my grip. He clearly liked that smooch. I smile back, but my nice feeling is brutally murdered as Hunter and his friends go by, and one of them starts to chant.
“One. One. One. ‘F and F’ number one. Go Brian.” This taunt is coming from a particularly hot, but nasty, white-blond-haired boy named Jamie. Too hot for his own good, ’cause he knows it. The others, except for Hunter, join in the chant, and as they pass us, their chant gets louder. Hunter won’t even look at me, but he doesn’t shush his friends either.
Brian looks like he’s going to kill them all, his beautiful lips tight and hard, his eyes squinting.
I grab his hand and shake my head. “Let it go. Everyone will know the truth when they see we stay together.”
“Those fuckers,” Brian says, his eyes flaming.
“If I can let it go, you can do it too. I know you can.” I pull him into a hug and bury my face in his chest, hoping we will be magically transported back to my patio, where we had such a lovely time this weekend. He rubs my back.
“You don’t deserve this,” he says.
“I know. But who ever said bullying was fair? Bullying is never fair—that’s the pure nature of it.” I’m actually afraid to see the next post about me. I told myself I wouldn’t look, but I did yesterday, and people are still voting on me. How is that possible? When will I be old news? And now I’ve given them new fuel, and they’ll probably be dragging Brian into it. Maybe I need to comment on it to get people to see me as a real person, and not as a rumor.
“I have to work tonight,” Brian says. “But I’ll text you later.”
“OK. Can’t believe I never asked—where do you work?”
“Benning’s Catering. I help cook. We’re catering a dinner tonight for a local business.”
I smile. “I should have known it would be food related.”
“I work about two or three days a week, and a day on the weekend too. I took last weekend off to be with you.” He smiles. “It’s a great job for me though. I’m learning a lot. Jack Benning went to culinary school, and he’s a pure genius.”
“He can’t be better than you.”
“Thanks, but he’s pretty amazing, really.” He looks at his phone. “I’ll bring you some of his food sometime. We’d better go.”
We kiss a quick peck and are off to our classes. The feel of his lips lingers on mine and makes listening in class extraordinarily difficult. Everywhere I look I see his face, his lips, those eyes. I’m smiling at nothing. I peer around to see if anyone has noticed this goofy look on my face. I think I’m in the clear. Basically everyone around me is looking down.
At home, I let Maxie out before hopping on the treadmill. I’m watching a show on my phone as I run when I get a text from Hunter.
Hunter: I’m sorry. I’m trying to stop it but the Instagram is going nuts again.
I stop the treadmill and say out loud, “Oh, fuck. I knew it.”
I tap into Instagram and check my notifications. I’ve been tagged in a post. It’s a picture of Hunter and me kissing, with a giant bright-yellow number twelve superimposed over the image. On the other side is a picture of Brian and me kissing with a giant number one. The text in the post reads: What number will she be for U?
The third comment below is from Hunter.
It reads: I did not F and F Allandra. All of you fucks out there. You hear me. Leave her alone. This is really Hunter. For real. Leave her THE FUCK alone all you jackasses.
At least Hunter’s trying to stop it. I need to sit. I rest my hand on my gut as it churns, and I may vomit right here. Tears spring to my eyes. I vow to myself not to show this to Brian. I stand up and start the treadmill back up, flick on some music, and turn the speed up higher than I had it before. I run hard, until I’m more mad than sad and no more hot tears are coming out of my eyes.
Slowing down the treadmill for the cooldown, I’m so nauseated. I have no appetite for dinner, and I plan not to eat, but then Christine and the girls pull into the driveway. I scramble off the treadmill and race to the shower before they can see my red, puffy eyes.
Dinner was hard to get through. I managed to eat a bit without puking on the table. Checking my phone for a text from Brian is a fail—I’ve got nothing. I plead the homework excuse and head down to my room. I can’t handle games with the twins tonight. Rubbing my temples helps my blazing headache. I get a text, but it’s from Becca.
Becca: Saw the post. I’m so sorry, my love.
Allandra: Thanks.
Becca: You OK?
Allandra: Idk
Becca: You with Brian? Does he know?
Allandra: No. He’s at work.
Becca: People are cruel.
Allandra: I know.
Becca: Screw ’em. They don’t know you.
Allandra: I know.
Becca: Want me to come over?
Allandra: No thanks. We’ve got a houseful. Christine and the twins are here too.
Becca: OK. Text me or call me if you need to. Love you, my friend.
Allandra: Thanks. Love you too.
I lie flat on my bed and feel my stomach. It doesn’t feel too fat today. But Christine’s taco dip rolls around in there, and I think I might puke. She actually is a very good cook, but I’m feeling so rotten about that post.
My phone rings. It’s Brian.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hello, my lovely queen. What ya up to?”
“Laying on my bed.”
“Ooh. Can I come?” he says with a chuckle.
“House full of people here,” I say.
“You OK? You sound … off.”
“I’m OK.”
“Can I come over?” he asks.
“Sure.”
“See you soon.”
“Yep, bye.”
I attempt to stand, but that makes the nausea worse. Maybe I ate too many tacos, though I didn’t think I ate that much. I’m sure this is just all from that horrid post. I hate social media.
Brian arrives in ten minutes flat. I open the front door as he approaches and immediately hug him.
“I knew something was wrong,” he says as he strokes my hair. “Let’s take Maxie for a walk, huh?”
“OK,” I say. I pull back and run to grab my coat, hat, mittens, and Maxie’s leash. I holler, “Brian and I are taking Maxie for a walk.”
“Hi, Brian,” Dad yells from the kitchen. When they met the other day, I could tell Dad liked him by the look on his face.
“Hi, Brian,” Christine calls.
“Hello. We’ll be back soon,” Brian calls to them.
“Great! I’ve got cheesecake,” Christine says.
“Perfect,” Brian says. “One of my faves.”
Minnesota is sharing its cold nature today. The wind whips our cheeks raw as we walk.
“Oh, that wind is so bad,” I say.
“Yes, it’s harsh.”
“Let’s move toward the path through the woods to get out of the wind.”
I pull him toward the wooded path, and we start to jog, trying to outrun the wind. As we reach the shelter of the trees, I say, “Ah, this is way better.”
“Definitely. So, you gonna spill it, or what?”
I stop walking, and the tears start again. “Oh, Brian, they posted about us like I was afraid they would. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh. Let me see.”
I pull out my phone and flip to the post, then hold it up so he can fully see the damn picture. “See. It’s awful.”
He takes the phone from me. “Shit,” he says. But then he laughs. “But, ya know, they aren’t lying. You are my number one person. I’d rather be with you than anyone else. Flip it around on them, and make it mean what you want it to.”
I smile with a small laugh. “You just know how to make me feel so good, Brian Smith,” I say, wiping tears from my eyes.
“And I’m lucky enough to get to hear you say that again.” He smiles and pulls me to him. “Screw them. Let’s just do us.”
I nod.
We kiss, and it’s more than amazing to feel his hot mouth on mine in this biting cold.
He stands straight up. “Uh, I needed that so bad. Been thinking about you all day long.”
I laugh. “Me too.” Seriously, can’t get this guy out of my head. “Ha! We kissed so long, Maxie just decided to go lie down!”
Brian laughs too. “Now that’s funny. Here, boy,” he says. Maxie loves Brian. He wags his tail and tries to lick Brian’s hands through his gloves. “It’s good he didn’t run off.”
“Nah, he never does that,” I say. “He’s a good boy, aren’t ya Maxie?”
We start to walk again, and Brian grabs my hand.
“I had decided not to tell you about the post. I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Please don’t ever do that,” he says with a shake of his head. “I want to know what you are going through, always.”
“OK, I promise. I won’t.”
“Did you have a good dinner? Did you eat?”
“I did. Christine is such a good cook. Did you eat?”
“No. I could have eaten at work, but I wanted to get to you as soon as possible so I just left.”
I stop walking. “Well, for the love, why are we still walking then? There’s tons of taco stuff left. Christine would love to feed you. Let’s head back.”
He turns to face me and holds both of my chilly cheeks in his big warm hands. “Only if you’re OK. I’ll walk the world starving just to make sure you are OK.”
I nod, and his hands follow my head movement. I say, “Who cares what liars post, because we know the real truth.” I smile and put my hands on his arms. “Besides, I’m good, now that I’m with you.”
“Yasss! You never stop giving me these one-liner gifts.” He kisses me, and I’m so happy, and I feel so loved, a few happy tears squeak out of my eyes.
Pulling my lips from his, I say, “Let’s go back before we freeze solid.”
“I know, right? That wind seems to be cutting through the trees now.” We make a mad dash back down the path and all the way home.
Back inside, I watch Brian scarf down tacos as he and Christine talk cooking, tacos, and a famous food blogger they apparently both adore. It’s too hard to follow their conversation, as I know nothing about cooking. I just love watching him talk about food—he gets so animated, he rolls his eyes in mock ecstasy. Love that part. I must have a giant goo-goo face on, because the girls keep looking at me, giggling and whispering at the end of the table.
“What’s so funny?” I ask them.
“Your face,” Lauren says. Karen copies my expression.
“Oh, stop. I don’t look like that.” I shake my finger at them.
“Uh-huh,” Lauren says.
Christine says, “How about you girls start getting the cheesecake ready?”
I smile at Christine and flick my eyes upward, then back down. She sneaks me a secret wink.
“Oh, I’m so ready to try this cheesecake,” Brian says. He looks at me with a huge grin that hugs me even though we aren’t even touching.
“I’m ready too,” I say.
Brian chews his last bit of his taco, eyes twinkling bluer than blue in this bright kitchen lighting.
“I am a lucky, lucky guy,” he says, touching my hand, which makes Lauren and Karen giggle even more as they cut the cheesecake.
I put my other hand on his, and he flips his to hold mine right on the table for everyone to see.
Christine calls out to Dad and Jackson, who are watching a game on TV. “Cheesecake time!”
The cheesecake is amazing, of course. And I don’t even mind that Brian and Christine are bantering on and on about cheesecake making, because it allows me to watch his mouth move and his eyes light up and hear his voice rise with excitement when he likes something Christine says about graham cracker crust. And I’m proud of myself. I’m eating dessert without thinking about anything but the creaminess of it and the looks on Brian’s face as he devours it. All is good. So good.
As I crawl into bed, I vow to never look at that effing Instagram again. Well, for at least six months. I oughta be old news by then, I hope. Or maybe three months. If Brian and I stay together that long, I will become boring. IF? Oh geez, banish that thought right now.