But the underlying message is painfully humiliating. The caption stating I’d learned a thing or two does nothing but validate the horrible statement I was an awful virginal lay, which went worldwide.
Deep down, I know none of it is true. I realize it shouldn’t affect me. I should recognize the good in my life, and I should let this shit go.
But I can’t.
I hold my phone out for Aaron to see, then I erupt and let him have it. “Are you happy now? Your social media post has turned me into another meme for people to laugh at.”
It’s dim in the truck, but I can see Aaron’s eyebrows shoot up as he leans toward the phone to see it. Grimacing, he mutters, “Goddamn it. Fuck.”
Jerking the phone back my way, I study it again. A hysterical laugh bubbles out of me, but I snap it off as I stare at the meme. The deluge of emotions hitting me all at once is the most awful thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. A million times worse than the original meme, because I really didn’t have an emotional investment in Tripp.
Not the way I have with Aaron.
It makes the betrayal hurt so much my chest feels like it’s going to cave in on itself.
“I’m so sorry, babe,” Aaron says, reaching a hand out.
I shrink away from him, tucking my phone against my chest and folding my arms around it. “Can you please take me home?” I ask, my voice cracking from the threat of the full-blown sobs aching to pour out of me.
“Clarke,” he murmurs, and the pity in his voice is too much to bear.
“Please,” I beg, turning my wrecked face his way. I know the tears that are starting to leak from my eyes will do more for my cause than any words. “Please just take me home.”
Misery etches all over his face for the pain he’s caused. He merely nods, then puts the truck in gear.
I lean against the passenger door, my head against the glass as he drives me home. The silence is comforting.
I don’t bother to change how I know it’ll go. When we get there, I let him help me out of the truck. If I’d tried to resist, he’d only insist on it, just like he’ll insist on walking me to the door. So, I let him walk by my side while I clutch the phone holding that awful picture to my chest.
When I reach my door, I turn to face him, essentially stopping his progress onto my porch. “I can’t do this.”
“Can’t do what?” he inquires hesitantly, but there’s an edge to his tone. He knows exactly what I mean.
“Can’t date you. See you anymore. It’s too hard for me.”
“Because of a silly social media post?” he asks defiantly.
I’m actually stunned he’d make light of it, which fuels my anger. “Silly? It is humiliating. Just like Tripp did—”
“You need to back the fuck up,” he snarls, throwing his palm up. “Don’t you dare lump me in with that asshole. Tripp did something to you—I did not.”
“You posted a picture on social media,” I accuse.
“So what?” he says. “I posted a pic because I was proud to be with you. I wanted to show my fans who I’d fucking fallen for. It’s not my goddamn fault it somehow got turned into something else.”
I’m stunned speechless. The power of words fails me at the mention of him falling for me. I mean… what exactly does that mean?
I shake my head, the bitter feelings pushing aside any warm emotions or curiosities his declaration tried to build up within me. My pride won’t let me explore it.
Because it doesn’t matter. At this moment, I can’t see past the shame of being a joke to the entire world. Again. This won’t be the last time it happens, either.
“I’m not cut out to be in the spotlight like that,” I say imploringly… begging him to please understand where I’m coming from. “I thought I could deal with it, but I can’t.”
“So that’s it? You just want to end things?” he asks with a harsh laugh.
Well, shit… the thought of never seeing Aaron again makes me feel like I want to die. “I don’t know,” I practically wail. “I just know this is the same stuff I went through before. Now, because of you, it’s all riled up again, and maybe… maybe I just need some time to think about this.”
Aaron takes a step back, and I can tell he’s pissed. His sympathy doesn’t last long. “You know what? Take all the damn time you want. I’m out of here.”
He pivots sharply and bounds down the steps, muttering curses in his wake. He doesn’t look back, but angrily hops in his truck and stomps the gas, squealing tires as he leaves.