ALEX
Zander is busy on his phone as he enters the apartment.
I assume he is also scrolling through Twitter. The series is trending again along with my name in the top ten. He drops his bag on the beanbag chair and lays next to me on the mattress. I wait for him to say anything, but he doesn’t. I tug on the string. He doesn’t tug back. When I crane my neck to look at his phone, he is watching a video of Ripped Jean’s performance last night.
“They love you,” Zander exhales. “Look at the crowd. When we switch back, they’re gonna be disappointed they have me again.”
I press back on the screen then tap the trending page. I read one of the top tweets. “This is the first time I am seeing Alex on screen. He stands his ground against Lance. Give him the Breakout Artist Award this year.”
I scro
