Page 73 of Fake Crown

“I’m going to respond.” I grab my phone off my desk and open it.

“Don’t do that,” Destiny says. “Absolutely do not do that. You’re the other woman. Or at least that’s how you’ve been painted. The only person who can respond is Faulkner, and whatever he does has to be big enough to shut this shit down for good.”

I stare at my open phone and replay her words. The one thing Brent has been adamant about since the video of us went viral is that neither of us responds. We let people think whatever they want, and we move on with our lives. But Val has now taken an assumption people were making and declared it the truth.

“Ask him to post his own this is how it is video,” Destiny says.

He won’t. I don’t even have to ask him to know. His socials have been almost dead since he changed all his passwords so Val no longer had access. Like me, he considers his accounts a necessary evil, but he doesn’t dedicate any time to them or to the people who are interested in him.

“If he won’t respond,” Nadiya says, “then I think that says a lot about him, don’t you? Your reputation is being slaughtered.”

“Change your flight,” Destiny says. “There’s one that leaves in four hours, and I think you should be on it. Campus will be a cesspool of hot takes tomorrow. Whether Brent comes out guns blazing or not—which I doubt, dude needed a fake girlfriend to hold his balls for him—it’ll take a while to put out this fire. Better if you’re not here to feel the burn.”

I bite my lip and catch Nadiya’s gaze. She’s the more cautious one, less prone to rash choices. “Is that what you think too?”

“I know you like him. That’s very clear, but I can’t believe he’s worth all this.” She wiggles her phone at me. “This isn’t the kind of attention you like.”

No one likes this kind of attention. Public shaming is not for the faint of heart. “I’ll change my flight.” I’ve been looking forward to going home, so maybe this isn’t all bad. For the next week and a half, I just can’t open a single one of my socials.

Since Brent and I agreed to this arrangement, I knew Val would come for me at some point. But I have to admit, she’s got patience and impeccable timing. Just as I predicted, she’s found a way to kick me when I was already down.

Brent

When I leave the athletics complex, Posey is waiting for me with a bag at her feet. Her arms are wrapped around her middle, and I zip my coat to my chin as I approach. The rest of my teammates call out goodbyes and say they’ll see me at practice tomorrow, but I’m laser focused on my girlfriend. There’s something about her posture that’s kicked my heart into gear, and a cool sweat has broken out in my armpits. She’s never waited for me outside a practice, and her closed-off expression isn’t helping my anxiety.

“What’s up?” I ask. “I thought I was coming to yours.”

“I changed my flight. I’m going home early.”

The coolness under my arms migrates through the rest of my body, and I shove my hands in my pockets. “Is everything okay at home?”

“Have you checked your socials?” She tugs her winter hat lower.

“No. I barely used them before you and I went viral. Even less interested now. Why?”

“Val made a video about us. She’s telling everyone we cheated and she’s devastated.”

“Okay.” At some point Val was going to say something. I’d hoped it would be the truth, but deep down I knew it wouldn’t be. She’s clung too hard to let the video of me and Posey go without some sort of response. “She can say whatever she wants. We know the truth.”

“But lots of people don’t. Her reach is huge.”

“Fuck ’em. What do we care what they think?”

“I don’t like how she’s making me look,” Posey says. “But if I respond, people will come after me because I seem like the other woman right now. People believe I’m the reason you and Val broke up.”

“I’m not the keeper of other peoples’ thoughts and opinions,” I say. “This will die down eventually. Just gotta ride it out.” The last time I received so much negative attention, I was fourteen, and my parents were right to lay low. It did disappear eventually. Even when the attention has been positive after my Olympic appearances, the intense interest always dies.

“I don’t want to ride it out anymore or ignore it or pretend she isn’t dragging me through the mud.” She takes a deep breath. “I want you to do something.”

Do something? Other than telling Val to cut the shit, I’m not sure what she thinks I can do.

“I want you to respond to her or do your own post about all this or something.”

“What?” I give a laugh of disbelief. “No. I’m not feeding the trolls and gossips. The more you give, the more they want.”

“A consistent diet of Val’s lies is currently filling them up.” Her tone is sharper than I’ve ever heard it. “You know what? Fucking forget it.” She waves her hand and takes out her phone.

“What are you doing?”