I spent hours going through my old photo albums in my room, trying to find the perfect photos for Louise's TweetyGram. By the time I finished, I'd never felt so accomplished and terrible at the same time.
Looking at my old photos made me realize how different my life was from seven years ago. I couldn't wear tank tops and short shorts in public anymore, I couldn't sunbathe on the beach anymore, and I couldn't even afford to fix my broken AC even though a heatwave was sweeping across California.
A heavy feeling sank into my stomach, but the gentle knocking on my bedroom door fished me out of my inner hell.
"Hey." Bree stood at the door in a maroon blouse and black pencil skirt, her hair tied up in a prim-and-proper bun. Glancing at the stack of photo albums on my desk, she asked, "Taking a trip down memory lane?"
"I'm choosing pictures for Louise Constantine Stéphanie Claudine de Sardines's TweetyGram profile."
She furrowed her brow. "You couldn't pick a shorter name?"
"It's a pretty name." I pouted.
Letting out a tiny chuckle, she stopped next to me and glanced at the photos on the table. "You said the Wolf could be one of your old friends. Wouldn't they recognize you?"
"Yes, which is why Jake and I are going to TweetyTune these photos and merge my face with his, Kristen's, and Olivia's, who are more than happy to help, by the way." I pulled up Louise's TweetyGram page and showed Bree the profile picture.
The teenage girl in the photo had Kristen's silky golden-blonde hair and amiability; Olivia's striking features and elegance; Jake's kind eyes and zest; and my once-radiant smile.
"Wow," Bree said.
"Unrecognizable, right? I'm meeting with Jake tonight to make more of this."
"Oh, you have a date with Jake?" As my jaw dropped, Bree teased, "So that's why you went to the salon today."
An unexpected blush heated my cheeks. "It's not a date. It's work." I could tell Bree didn't believe me, so I quickly stressed, "Work." As Bree's lips curved into a teasing smile, I added, "And I went to the salon because it was time to get my hair done. I mean, I hadn't had a haircut in almost a year, and didn't you notice my hair was dull as heck?"
"Your hair was just fine before."
"Yeah, right," I scoffed.
I hadn't been planning on spending any money at a beauty salon. But on my way to the grocery store earlier this afternoon, I spotted numerous women stepping out of the Beauty Bar with bouncy, silky, TweetyGram-worthy hair. The next thing I knew, I was handing over my credit card to the cashier, my hair about five inches shorter and a tad bit shinier than before.
I loved my new, trendy, shoulder-length haircut. I loved it so much I took a selfie—okay, tons of selfies—and posted it on TweetyGram. I even used the photo as my new profile picture.
But I would, without a doubt, hate my credit card bill next month.
"Linds, are you okay?" Bree studied me with concern. "You don't seem like yourself lately."
"I'm fine," I reassured her. "The more important question is you're not going to work, are you?"
"I am."
Bree was a workaholic, but still. I didn't expect her to go to work on a Sunday afternoon.
"Bree, this is Sunday. Don't you think you've worked yourself a little too hard? You need to rest. You look like a Panda," I joked.
Shock widened her eyes, and she darted her gaze to the vanity mirror behind me. Yet when she saw her reflection, she regained her composure, having realized I was exaggerating.
"Haha," she deadpanned. "As much as I want to rest, fast-food restaurants never sleep. One of the outlets in Orange County has been getting bad reviews on Whoops, so Mr. Lovejoy and I are heading there tonight for a surprise inspection. And there's no better time to do a surprise inspection than Sunday night."
"Mm-hmm. Besides, there's no better way to spend a Sunday night than being with the guy you've secretly been in love with for years, right?" I teased.
"Of course. That's what you are going to do tonight, isn't it?" she teased back.
"What?" A nervous laugh bubbled out of me. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not going on a date with Jake. I'm simply having, uh, a formal meeting—well, not exactly formal, but you know, it's just a meeting between two old friends for . . . work. Nothing more."
She chuckled. "Whatever you say. I'm off to work. Call me if you need anything, okay?"
"Bye."
As Bree closed the door to my room, I slumped back against the chair's cushioned backrest. Huh. What was that? Why was I even nervous?
My phone dinged twice. There were two new notifications from TweetyGram.
@ParisInParis liked your post
@ParisInParis commented on your post: LOVE the new do! 😍😍😍
I clicked on my post and replied to Paris's comment: Thanks!
The selfie I'd posted earlier had garnered thirteen likes so far. Although it was nothing compared to the amount of likes my friends' posts got, it sent a rush of pleasure that boosted my confidence.
I guess TweetyGram isn't so bad after all.
Sitting straighter in my chair, I glanced at the time. 4.48 p.m. I still had about two hours before my meeting with Jake, and since I had nothing better to do, I figured I should learn a thing or two about current trends on TweetyGram.
For Louise's profile, of course.
The first post that showed up on my feed was Paris's. It was a photo of a box of too-pretty-to-eat desserts—éclair, fraisier, mille-feuille, mont-blanc, chocolate mousse dome, and mini tarte tatin.
Sunday Treat Day! 🎂🍰🥧
#Sunday #TreatDay #ParisInParis #FoodieGram #Yum #OmNomNom #Blessed #dimanche #France #Paris
If I'd been a millionaire, I would've hopped on a plane and flown to Paris to buy a few boxes of desserts for myself.
But I wasn't.
As I fought to stop myself from licking my phone screen, my eyes were drawn to the number of likes below the photo. The photo had only been posted five minutes ago, but it had already gained 128 likes, almost ten times the amount of likes my selfie had gotten.
An overwhelming sense of defeat crashed over me. Absurd, I knew.
Geez, Lindsey. What is wrong with you?
Shaking my head, I double-tapped Paris's post and pulled myself together.
I scrolled past a few selfies and beach photos until Harriet's post caught my attention. It was a shot of her slim, perfectly tanned legs laid back on a beach, an opened book placed on her thighs.
A much needed me time 👙📚
Red Moon is hands down THE BEST Moonlight novel so far. I finished it in two days!
Have you guys read it?
Also, whose team are you on? Are you #TeamJoaquin or #TeamEdmund?
So Harriet is a fan of Moonlight, huh? My mind reminded me of the conversation Kristen had with the Malibu Wolf.
The Malibu Wolf seemed to be a bookaholic, and a quick visit to Harriet's profile told me Harriet was too. In fact, she had posted about Moonlight, To All the Boys I've Hated Before, and Fifty Shades of Pink—the same books the Wolf had discussed with Kristen.
It could be a coincidence, considering the popularity of the books. Nevertheless, my suspicion of Harriet grew.
I was about to continue my research when a post in my feed stopped me.
With her lips pursed in a nauseating kissy face, Charity Mayberry showed off a box of desserts in jars. The glossy white-and-gold box had Dessertholic's logo printed on it.
My stomach grumbled. With disgust or hunger, I couldn't tell. The mini jars of desserts in the photo were mouthwatering for sure, but Charity's pose had me curling my lip.
bae got me the loveliest treat for sunday 😍
thanks @KingChadChadbourne 😘😘😘
love ya to the moon and back xxx
#treatday #bestbaeever #dessertholic
As I read the post's caption, the weirdest feeling stirred in me, one that got worse when I noticed Charity's post had garnered over 12k likes in a mere hour.
It took a while for me to realize what I was feeling.
It was envy. Pure, malicious envy.
Just like I'd envied Charity when her parents had managed to invite Justice Beaver to her 13th birthday party, right now, I envied her for having an attentive boyfriend and a cult following. She had everything she'd always wanted—fame, fortune, love—whereas I was nowhere near where I thought I'd be seven years ago. I couldn't even afford those fancy desserts in jars.
Well, technically, I could. But I'd have to cut back on my daily expenses.
The sense of envy grew stronger the longer I stared at Charity's photo. Before I knew it, a sense of defeat settled deep in my gut.
"You're such a loser, Ginger!" Charity's screechy voice echoed in my head, followed by her high-pitched, ear-piercing laughter.
I tightened my grip around my phone, anger burning in my chest. No, no, no. There's no way I'm losing against Charity. I can't lose against Charity. I won't!
As I struggled to suppress the mix of emotions rolling in my stomach, Medusa Lindsey proposed an idea. She urged me to buy a box of desserts for myself, snap a photo of it, and brag about it on TweetyGram as if my imaginary boyfriend gave it to me. Or better yet, stage the photo to look as if I was enjoying the dessert with him.
Huh. That's actually a pretty good idea—
My phone buzzed, snapping me back to my senses.
"Ugh. What was I thinking?"
I kicked Medusa Lindsey back into the darkness and checked my phone. There was a new notification from TweetyGram: Louise had a new follower.
Louise only had one post and fifty followers so far. But I'd spent the past two days flooding Malibu, 90265's comment section using Louise's account, hoping it would attract the Malibu Wolf's attention.
Maybe this is it!
Sitting straight up, I tapped the notification.
@MalibuLoversUnite requested to follow you
Disappointment rushed through me when I saw Louise's new follower was another random Malibu, 90265 fan account. Slouching in my seat, I accepted the request and returned to my profile.
Bored, I pressed the magnifying glass icon next to the home icon at the bottom of the screen. I'd hoped to find pictures of cute animals to distract me. Instead, my explore page was filled with photos of gorgeous food portraits: cones of strawberry-vanilla ice cream topped with cherry sauce and cookies shaped like dragon's heads, colorful smoothie bowls with sparkly fairy wings made of chocolate, and Greedy's new Sweety Fruity Burger.
Bree would go ballistic if she knew I was drooling over Lovejoy's #1 competitor's new menu. But the combination of the bubblegum-blue-and-pink buns, gooey marshmallow creme, a drizzle of caramel sauce, and juicy fruit burger patties looked super delicious.
Right in the middle of my Discover page was a photo of a similar dessert in a jar as the one Charity posted, only this time, it was an apple cake parfait—my favorite.
The dessert was practically glowing, like a grand prize of a prestigious competition. I could almost taste the delicious combination of moist cinnamon cake, fluffy whipped cream cheese, chunks of sautéed apples, sweet and buttery streusel, and a drizzle of caramel sauce melting on my tongue.
As I struggled to stop myself from eating my phone, Medusa Lindsey crept out of the darkness. The hissing of the snakes on her head reverberated in my head. Gritting my teeth, I squeezed my eyes shut and attempted to silence them, but instead, their voice morphed into Charity's high-pitched one.
"You're such a loser, Ginger. You're a nobody. You don't have a super-rich, uber-hot boyfriend like me. You don't make millions like I do. And you're so poor you can't even celebrate treat day!" Charity's shrill laughter filled my head.
"This isn't real, Lindsey. Snap out of it. Snap out of it!"
I tried to stop the voice in my head but failed miserably. Instead, images of Charity laughing at my face haunted me. And it wasn't just her. Harriet and her followers soon joined her in jeering at me, pointing out how much of a loser I was.
"Ugh! Screw it." I hopped out of my chair, changed into something decent, and dashed out of my apartment.
The walk to Dessertholic only took me ten minutes. When I arrived, I was shocked by how many people were inside the baby-pink building. The place was swarmed with people, and there must've been at least thirty people standing in line to buy the TweetyGrammable desserts.
I considered turning around and heading back to my apartment without even stepping into the dessert shop. But Medusa Lindsey directed my gaze to the jars of desserts inside the glass display counter in the shop.
They were calling for me to buy them.
They were calling for me to eat them.
They were calling for me to use them as proof that I wasn't a loser.
A glance at my watch told me I still had about an hour and a half before my meeting with Jake. So, this time, I let Medusa Lindsey win.
Author's Note:
So, Lindsey is slowly falling down the rabbit hole 🙈
Treat day will continue in the next chapter! Thanks for reading :)