I fled the scene before anything could happen. I know that makes me a coward but I'm used to being just that. The girl who never stood up for herself. The girl who's scared...scared of everything.
By the time I got home with a drunk Elle who I practically had to force into an Uber there was a throbbing in my head that wouldn't go away. The events of the day took an emotional toll on me that even after using Ambien to fall asleep, I tossed and turned all night. It's hard to sleep when all I can think about is my article being published first thing in the morning. Most especially, about how Charlie would react when he reads it.
The thought alone makes me feel nauseous.
One would think sleeping late would mean waking up late but I'm up at the crack of dawn, the first thing I reach for being my phone. It is much easier to get the online version of the paper on the school's website than sit around and wait for the mailman to drop the paperback.
I ignore the steady racing of my heart as I copy and paste the link to the website and look for the article on the search engine.
It's on there.
My eyes fly to the time on top of my screen which pops up with a notification almost immediately. It's a confetti email from The Daily Bruins congratulating me on my first article from Angie-the only woman at that place I can genuinely say gives a toss about me. The kind gesture gives me a small boost in confidence, forcing me to tap on the scree. The paper opens up immediately like it's been waiting for me. I scroll past news on the other sports until I get to the page on midnight madness highlight.
I'm engulfed by guilt for leaving Isaac to do all the work whilst I hide away like a little loser who can't face her problems head on like a grown up she claims she is. Melissa asked for us to work together but I acted like a total sly and left him all alone because of my own personal problems. I owe him the biggest apology-and thank you. He did help me twice in a heartbeat.
To while away time and heave off some of the guilt I'm feeling, I scroll through the pictures which look like they were taken by a professional photographer instead of a junior journalism student. My guess is that he has completed the compulsory photojournalism class in his sophomore year. Something I would be doing right now if I didn't repeat stats class. That's why I'm so clueless when it comes to magazine design and photography techniques. God. I feel like such a failure compared to him.
As I read through the article, I realise not only do the pictures look fantastic, his narrative writing is also brilliant to the point that I'm finding it interesting as I read through it, the pictures supporting his story. The highlight of the night was indeed the return of Charlie Murtaugh to the team. An announcement that blew the crowd away. Out of all the photos, one of them intrigue me the most. It's Charlie's. He's standing in the middle of the court with his arms wide apart. His eyes are staring into the camera and there's a mammoth smile on his face.
There's something about that picture-the smile, his stance (like that's his happy place)-it erupts a feeling in the pit of my stomach and I can't help but screenshot the picture. I've never seen him smile like that. And I don't think either Isaac or Charlie know what an amazing moment they managed to capture.
I also can't help but notice Charlie doesn't look nervous contrary to what he whispered to me. I'm going to f***ing mess it up. But he didn't. Instead I did. I messed up. Sh*t. I messed up big time.
The remembrance of my own article brings a frown to my face. I waste no time in reading.
I read the article 5 times. Double checking for spelling errors, misinformation, grammatical errors even but I find nothing. The article is perfect if you ignore the Charlie situation. I pull my cover so that it's just beneath my chin. I owe Charlie nothing. But I can't help feeling like a shit person for even mentioning something so personal about him on the article for the world to see. Something he's not comfortable with talking about. Nobody should ever feel forced to talk about something when they're not ready-no matter who they are or what they've done in the past.
This is not the type of journalist I want to be.
A long sigh escapes me as I turn off my phone and slip it under my pillow. Looks like today's going to be a stay in bed type of day. Hiding from the world and forgetting all about my problems. Even if it's just for a few hours.
As I close my eyes and imagine a world where I'm not me, It doesn't take long before sleep takes over my body.
***
I'm in a dreamless sleep when I feel soft taps on my left thigh and hear my name being called. Somehow, I manage to ignore it. It seems that now that I'm done, my body's determined to get back all of the sleep I lost out on when I was writing my article. I figured whoever it is calling me would realise that I don't want to be disturbed and leave but they don't and the persistent taps accompanied with the occasional 'wake up Lor' doesn't go away. Still I refuse to open my eyes until my duvet is dragged rather aggressively off my body and a harsh sting on my thigh follows.
"Lorraine!"
"Ow!" My eyes fly open as my hands reach to rub my sore thigh. "What was that for?" Looking homeless with hair everywhere and a bit of dried drool on the side of her mouth, Elle eyes me in a this is not a joke way and I find myself mumbling incoherently whilst pushing myself into a sitting position. "What's happening?" I ask as my mind goes into a silent prayer.
Don't let it be about my article.
Don't let it be about my article.
Don't let it be about my article.
Please.
But somehow, the look on Elle's face tells me I should prepare my mind for the worst. What did I expect? It's like I've pissed off the universe by using the last sheet of toilet paper and not replacing it with a new roll.
"It's all over."
The first thing that comes to my head is what? Before I can ask her what in the world she's talking about, the door opens and Shadé walks in her gym clothes, her phone waving in the air. She looks pissed which makes me even more worried. "Have you seen it?"
"I have, she hasn't." Elle replies scrolling through her phone. The frown on her face as she does this indicates that whatever it is that she's seeing-that they've both seen-can't be good. My heart starts to race and I feel sick.
"What's going on guys?" I ask sounding like a child who's scared her parents are about to go through a divorce. Shadé kicks off her shoes and climbs on the bed.
"Where's your phone?" She asks her eyes scanning the bed. Scared, I pull out the device from where it's lodged in between the sheets and pillows. I don't question her, I just hand it to her. I'm too scared to see what's on there.
"I turned it off." I face the both of them, readying my mind for anything "you guys are scaring me. Tell me what's going on." Shade and Elle stare at each other like they feel sorry for me. And I can't help but wonder when I'll ever stop seeing that look. That pitying look that I hate so much. "Please."
"Charlie was on an interview earlier this morning." Elle says.
Confused, I look from Elle to Shadé as I try to figure out how that's my business "and what's that got to do with me?"
"It's everywhere-blogs, shade-rooms, meme accounts-" still not getting the gist, I give her an and look which makes her sigh. She looks to Shadé for help but our friend looks like she's ready to catch a body. Elle sighs again and continues "They think-well they're saying you wrote your article because you slept with Charlie."
What now?
Of all the scenarios that have played out in my head, this wasn't one of it. A part of me wants to laugh as I'd rather believe this to be a cruel joke but the look on both Shadé and Elle's faces tells me it's anything but. This which might be the most absurd thing I've ever heard is happening right at the moment and I have absolutely no idea how to react.
The first thing I think is-they're going to see it. My parents are going to see it. My cousins will see it. People from my journalism class are going to see it. People from this college. Heck people from bloody Australia will see it. It's the internet. The whole world will see it. I feel my body curl up in embarrassment as I zone back into the conversation happening in the room. I realise Sam is also in the room now and she does not look too happy either. She looks disoriented with half her hair bleached blonde (meaning she hurriedly left her hair appointment to come home) and the other half her natural dark brown. Under different circumstances we would be laughing and teasing her about it but the tension in the room is enough to keep any form of laughter at bay.
"She's going to see it eventually so she might as well see it now." Sam argues "there's literally no point hiding it from her."
"It's too much. She's not ready to see it right now." Shadé disagrees.
"She needs to process everything that's happening." Elle adds.
They're talking about me like I have no brain of my own to think for myself-which at the moment I probably don't. I blink as I zone out of the conversation again and follow the sound and vibration coming from my bed. Shadé must have turned on my phone because it wouldn't stop going off. Before my mushed up brain can reach for it, she grabs it. "They keep on following her on Instagram and Twitter. It's f*cking irritating."
"They're not going to stop." Elle says.
"Should we report it? It's false information." Samatha suggests worriedly.
"It's not going to get taken down if it's just three of us reporting it." There's a moment of silence in the room which is interrupted when Shade makes a low, violent sound "I'm going to kill him."
"Come on, It's not his fault." Samantha says.
Whose fault? I want to ask but the words get stuck in my throat. Partly because I already know who it is and also because I still do not get the full picture of what's going on. How's Charlie linked to this? How did this come to be in the first place? Something else must have happened while I was sleeping because no one in their right mind reads an article and thinks 'right, she slept with him.'
"It's his interview." She replies "He knows the things people are saying are not true and he didn't-he hasn't said one thing to defend her." Shadé's voice shakes slightly and I realise she's holding back tears. She blows out a loud breath and blinks rapidly. "It's so upsetting."
"I wanna see it." As if they're just realising I'm still in the room, they all turn to look at me unbelievably. I swallow, trying to look like my insides aren't churning and my head isn't starting to hurt. "I wanna see." I don't know how to react because I don't know what it is that I'm reacting to. I'm still finding it pretty hard to believe that any of this is true-why would anyone think that I slept with a guy to get something? Why would anyone think any girl sleeps with a guy to get anything? It's degrading. It's humiliating.
"Lor I don't think-"
"I wanna see Elle. You can't hide it away from me forever."
They share uncertain looks with each other but I ignore it and pry my phone out of Shadé's hand. Without wasting time, I unlock it and click on my Instagram. Heart pounding, I click on the almost a thousand follow requests and hundreds of tags on post. There's a twisting in my belly that just wouldn't go away as I scroll through the countless posts. The room is eerily quiet when I click on one of the posts that I can hear the pounding in my chest.
It's ironic that I follow this account. There's a picture of me (my Instagram profile picture) next to a picture of Charlie in his basketball jersey.
#SBupdatez: it looks like estranged UCLA Bruins pointguard #CharlieMurtuagh is back and better with hopes of joining the NBA. According to his Good Morning LA interview, His one year journey written by new journalist friend #LorrainePerabo came with some added benefits.
What do y'all think he meant? SWIPE.
I do as I'm told and swipe to the left. There's a video of Charlie sitting next to an older man-(I'm guessing the host of the show) they're both dressed in suits and Charlie has his hair sleeked back to give him a sophisticated look. I can't help but notice how tan the navy blue suit makes him looks. Something I shouldn't be thinking about right at this moment but can't help.
"There have been speculations about the circumstances of your absence from the team this past year but this article written by your college's paper itself claims that the rumours about your accident is true." The other man whose name has popped up on the screen to be Paul says as he crosses his legs. There's a picture of the article on the background screen with certain bits highlighted in orange. The straight look on Charlie's face doesn't falter as he nods in agreement. He's trying to hide it but I can feel his anger through the screen.
"Yeah."
"You've kept this a secret for quite some time. It's surprising someone finally got their hands on the juicy details."
"Yeah. Very surprising. I'm pretty surprised as well." He rests his gaze on the camera for a few seconds and it feels like he's looking right at me. Like he wants me to know he knows what I wrote. "I just happen to know this particular journalist on a personal level. It's the only reason she was able to write the article."
"Personal level huh." Paul says and there's laughter and wolf whistles in the audience "Something you're not telling us Mr Murtaugh."
"It's nothing-" Charlie laughs as the noise from the audience gets too much. "You know what I mean." He adds with what you call a cheeky wink which makes the crowd go even more crazy.
I sit there, dumbfounded, not understanding what Charlie meant by 'you know what I mean.' I'm scared to watch the video again- I believe the almost 30 thousand views on this one is enough. 29,667 views and 1863 comments.
My thumb ignores my warning and taps on the first comment.
only1_likei he low-key just said they f*ck 🤣🤣🤣🤣yo
trxpgirlshine "you know what I mean. *wink*" I think we just got an idea.
dammy4real yall having sex to write shit now? Some girls really do be trashy.
_camthomas I really don't like her for my bro. She's not even pretty.
aredmon_ celebrities never get a private moment
_ispeakfashion I like the blonde better
miss_meldash sis needs to hit the gym 😭😭😭
stilltobz 🤣🤣🤣🤣this sh*t is hilarious. He basically said they had sex. She cute tho
sg.vonteeee. I don't ever want to see his
picture next to hers 😑
biancuhhh- Tryna take my daddyyyyyyyyyyyttt whore?
"Look at me Lorraine." Elle soft voice stops me from going on to the next comment. She watching me with calm eyes as she plucks my phone out of my hand before handing it to Shadé. There's a lot going through my head and my eyes are stinging from unshed tears."We'll find something to do about this."
I find it hard to believe. The things those people who know nothing about me are saying isn't nice or true. And to think that there's more people on different Instagram accounts judging me, mocking me and making up lies about me. And Charlie. He's watching all of this probably happy that I got what I deserve for writing about his accident.
Ignoring the conversation around me, I pick up my duvet and wrap it around myself as I lay my head on the pillow. I feel a traitorous tear leak out of my eye as I stare through the white wall in front of me. I don't know how long I'm like that for until sleep takes over my body once more.