Damage Control

chapter 12

    Hadyn ended up staying the night, since the girls and paps made camp in front of my apartment. I just felt bad for my neighbors that had to worm their way through the crowd and get into the building without letting anybody leak in. 

    There wasn’t a repeat of what happened the last time he stayed the night. He took the couch, despite him barely fitting and my urges for him to take the bed. 

    When I walked in the next morning to make coffee, he was still asleep, his legs draping over the edge and my red throw blanket tossed over his bare torso. Apparently, my apartment had been hot that night, which explained why his shirt was off. 

    Seeing that was definitely something I could get used to. 

    I walked over to the coffee machine and filled it up with water and added a filter. The water was boiling when I heard shuffling. 

    “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” I called out to him, over my shoulder. 

    Hadyn was in the middle of stretching when he turned around and gave me a sleepy grin. “Morning,” he responded, his voice heavy with sleep. 

    I heard him get up and then the bathroom door shut. I had spare toothbrushes (mostly because I bought them in bulk to save myself future trips. It was cheaper that way) which I told Hadyn to help himself to. 

    “The toothbrush hoard?” Hadyn said, leaning against the bathroom doorway with a pink toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. “Kind of a turn on.” 

    “Easy there,” I replied, rolling my eyes. 

    The coffee preparation was done by the time Hadyn finished in the bathroom. Within minutes, I would have a glorious steaming cup of legal crack. 

    I perched myself on the side of the counter with an empty mug in my hand as Hadyn did the same on the opposite side. 

    “Why are you smiling at me like you’re about to snatch me up and shove me into your white van?” I asked. 

    He laughed. “Because I’m thinking of snatching you up and shoving you into a plane to California.” 

    Hadyn’s tone had a playful tinge to it, which is why I decided not to dwell on all the reasons why that wouldn’t work for me. 

    There was a lot that didn’t work about our situation. But we didn’t really have a choice about what had happened, therefore we might as well have fun with it. 

    The noise of the coffee brewing saved me from responding to him. I stared at the liquid pour from the machine into the jar. 

    “Do you want some?” I asked, turning my head around. 

    Click. 

    The sound of a camera shutter going off pinged from his phone and he smiled at the screen. 

    “Ew, Hadyn,” I groaned, turning back around, feeling the blush spread onto my cheeks. “I look so gross right now.” Which was 99% true; I had tried to put in some effort, wearing the only pajama set I owned and a robe. The set was given to me a few years ago during a secret santa. It was gray cotton shorts and a matching sleep shirt with short sleeves and black buttons. My robe was the silky navy blue one I had thrifted a few years ago. My hair was in a half-hearted bun, that was already sagging and resting on the top of my back. 

    “You look amazing,” Hadyn insisted. “Most girls to look like you in the morning need an hour in hair and makeup.” 

    I snorted. “That’s such a lie and so cheesy.” 

    Hadyn was busy tapping things on his phone. I poured the coffee out of the pot and into the mug, grabbing my flavored creamer and mixed it in with my pinky. 

    Click. 

    “Hadyn!” I laughed. “Quit it, you’re so weird.” 

    But he had this goofy smile on his face, which made me feel like maybe photos weren’t so bad. 

    A few hours later, Hadyn had left wearing my biggest beanie and my cat-eye sunglasses into a called cab. The apartment still kind of smelled like him, which was always nice. 

    I decided to finish the rest of my coffee while reading a few chapters of the current book that I was reading before I faced the disaster that was my notification list on my cell. 

    The coffee was delicious, and I was so caught up in the ignorance of Hemingway that I contemplated putting on another pot. But my phone had been pinging so I decided to just rip the bandage off and check. 

    Darius: Since when did you have an i********:??? 

    C’mon, Alexa. I thought we were closer than this. 

    Talk to me when you’re ready, I guess… 

    I slowly exhaled through my nose and clicked on a notification from Brit, a friend from high school. 

    Brit: Alexa! How could you not tell me you were dating Hadyn Michaels!!!!! 

    Does Cal know? 

    How are you? Text me back ASAP 

    Seeing Cal’s name was almost enough to make me smash my phone with a hammer. I scrolled through the various people that had texted, screening for his name. There was nothing. 

    Darius’ initial question about my i********: was enough to peak my curiosity. I redownloaded the photo-sharing app and logged back into the account I hadn’t used in months. 

    My notification feed was even bigger than my text feed. 

    Hundreds of comments were on every photo. I even had dozens of tagged photos. The majority of the tagged ones were of the one the pap had taken. The newest one was in my kitchen, though. I was wearing my pajama set and robe, glancing over my shoulder. 

    Clicking on it, I choked on air when I saw the amount of ‘likes’ it had gotten. 50,000. The caption was ‘mornings like these’ from the account @officialhadynm 

    He had posted multiple. The first one of me looking over my shoulder, and the second was me blowing the steam over my coffee. The third was of me laughing over the mug. 

    I went onto Hadyn’s account. The previous post was a screenshot of his ‘notes’, talking about the breakup with Macy. Before that was a candid of him speaking at the convention. There was a bunch of him on set, a few of him shirtless at a pool, and some random ones of him and Macy. 

    I went back to my own i********: page and clicked on the last photo I had posted. It was during the last party of the year. We were at Brit’s house and the sun had just set, tinting the world with a pink-orange hue. 

    Brit’s house was on the bigger side. She had a gorgeous wraparound porch with these wooden rocking chairs her grandfather had made when he was alive. She lived right on the lake, which meant the porch overlooked the water. 

    In the photo, Cal and I were holding hands and sitting in the chairs with the sky and water in the background. I looked so much younger with flushed cheeks, a ton of eye makeup, and long black hair. 

    Last I checked, the photo had maybe 280 likes. Now, it had close to 12,000 and 300 comments. 

    I clicked on the comment section and read a few. 

    @fopluvr22: who tf is she!!? 

    @daniweeler: @officialhadynm ya girl is cheating on ya, bud

    @ceceseesall: not ur type hadyn, baby. 

    @unofficialfangsofpassion: unpopular opinion: i like her 

    @mrs_michaels2873: trash belongs outside, honey! take urself out PLEASE. 

    Wow, was all I could say. Those prepubescent girls were vicious. 

    Since I had been part of the ‘in group’ my entire life in a small town, I was used to people being jackasses to me. Now, being cyberbullied by Hadyn’s fangirls were a bit different, but it wasn’t too bad compared to the death wishes and rumors that were spread at home about me. 

    Me: Your fans are assholes, by the way. 

    Hadyn: I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before I posted the photo. 

    Me: How’d you find my i********:? 

    Hadyn: I just looked up Alexa Thomas and there you were. Who’s the dude in all your photos? 

I wasn’t quite ready to have that conversation just yet. 

Hadyn: Also, Joe said you didn’t have an i********:? He wants to talk about that when we get the chance. 

    Great.