Page 62 of You've Got Hate Mail
Something broke in me when I went viral, and I’ve been clumsier than normal ever since.
I hate being clumsy.
It makes me feel unintelligent and unaware, when I’ve worked so hard all of my life to be cognizant of my surroundings and well-informed with critical thinking skills.
So my parents would think I was as smart and successful as my sisters, even if my choice of careers was second-rate compared to Belle’s law degree and Aurora’s medical practice.
“You have Lav for a bit longer?” Heath says to Ginny.
She smiles at him. “Once I go rescue her from bathroom-cleaning duty with Elizabeth, we were planning on having supervised grapevine time to hunt for dragons.”
He nods.
No frustration.
No cringing.
I’ve seen Lavender enough to know that she’s as wildly unpredictable in her moods and actions as a squirrel on three double espresso martinis.
Which I haven’t personally witnessed, but I did see a squirrel get a little tipsy once.
It was a sight.
“Any objection to the wedding?” Mabel asks him.
“Gotta do something. If you think it’s what we need, it’s what we need.” He looks at me. “You ready now? No time to waste, and I’m stalled on everything else around here. Might as well see what we’ve got.”
I smile, then worry I’m smiling too brightly, then realize it looks worse that I can’t decide how to smile, and my face gets hotter. “Yep. Just gotta grab my water bottle.”
“I’ll meet you in front.”
He rises, and I’m struck once again by how large of a man he is.
And how much comfort I’ve taken in knowing that with me staying in his basement, he’s standing between me and anything that might find me.
My parents.
My sisters.
An ex that I haven’t talked to in a year and a half but who felt the need to reach out to berate me for what his nieces apparently saw on the internet.
The complete randos from the internet whom I’ve tried very hard to not think about while I’ve been cut off from the world here.
Though it’s the randos from the internet that I’m most worried aboutactuallywanting to see me in person.
The rest of them probably appreciate that I’m not close by right now.
Even my friends from back home—the ones who’ve been checking in on me over text while I’ve been gone—aren’t people I want to see yet.
I feel like I’m turning into a new person here, and I’m not ready to face it if I’m turning into the kind of person that even my closest friends wouldn’t want to be around too.
Apparently I have more insecurities about relationships than I thought I did before my viral moment.
“Great! I’ll see you out front!” I smile brightly again, turn, and walk straight into the doorframe behind me.
“Oh, honey,” Samantha murmurs. “It does eventually get better, I promise.”
“I’m okay!” Nothing bruised but my ego.
