Quick Author's Note: As I announced on my Facebook page last night, this story will be getting a new title. I think I finally found one I really like. So, when you get future notifications letting you know Always You was updated, it's this story.
Unedited.
Chapter Three
Before:
Page
"You put it on Instagram?"
Grady leaned out from the bathroom, toothbrush in his mouth with a little bit of foam dripping down his chin. "Yes?"
Why did he phrase it like a question? "Why?" I asked like he was stupid.
"Because?"
He disappeared back into the bathroom. You're only supposed to brush your teeth for two minutes but I swore he'd brushed for at least five. Was he hiding from my reaction in the bathroom?
Really?
The bathroom?
"We need to talk about this!" I called. "Grady!"
He spat out the toothpaste then I heard the water run—he came out and leaned against the frame. "What?"
I held up a hand and diverted my eyes. "Shirt. You need a shirt before we talk about this."
"So you can't be distracted while you yell at me? Not a chance."
"Grady—" He wasn't being reasonable at all. "Seriously?"
"There's a reason I asked you to get on Instagram. This is one of them."
He was right. When we got back to his room, he asked and I gave him a look. I had all the social media accounts I wanted or needed. He swore if I didn't, he'd download the app to my phone while I slept and make an account for me which convinced me. So I officially became @turnthePageBaby on the stupid Instagram with no actual plans to use it. The "baby" part was his contribution.
"You didn't say it was so you can—tag? Is that the right word?" He nodded. "Right. It wasn't so you could tag me in this picture." I looked down at my phone and my eyes widened yet again. "I think I'm going to vomit. People I don't know followed me. How can they follow me without my permission? How is this a thing?? It's an invasion. I feel invaded! Grady!"
If I was someone else or even floating outside my body right now, the whole thing would be funny. But none of that happened and I was still me. The offending picture graced my screen in all of its chromed-out glory. He took it while we were at the movies. Feet propped up on the seats in front of us, the empty theater, movie playing, and our clasped hands. The "labels" we'd written on the back of our hands visible. You could see all of mine while his hung out in the shadow, my name not clear.
I was thankful for that little miracle.
"Breathe, Page."
I didn't even know I needed to until my lungs ached and filled on his command. I knew dating someone famous would come with its complications but this—
"What did you do?" I whispered desperately.
He took it in stride, didn't seem worried or upset by my reaction. Then again it wouldn't be his privacy being invaded as the public became fully conscious of my existence.
He unfolded from his position and walked over, dropping onto the bed at my side.
"It's just a picture," he reassured. "It's going to be ok."
