Read Online Blogger Girl by Meredith Schorr - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Meredith Schorr
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was positive she was the girl from the elevator and Shake Shack. I frantically scrolled through his list of friends until I found her thumbnail picture. Mary Jones. Could she have a more generic name? I clicked on her picture but her profile was private and I couldn’t find anything that would tell me whether she was dating Nicholas, just his friend or his friend with benefits. I had one of those, why wouldn’t he? Feeling a headache coming on, I pressed my fingers to my temples until I forced myself to snap out of it. The only way to know for sure what this girl meant to Nicholas was to straight out ask him. And I had no intention of doing any such thing. According to Facebook, Nicholas was single. That was all I needed to know for the time being.
Afraid that continuing to look at his albums would do more harm than good, I decided to do a brief perusal of his recent wall posts. I vowed to only check what was visible on the first screen and not under any circumstances, scroll farther down by clicking “older posts.” It made me feel better to impose at least minimal conditions on my stalking experience.
It was interesting to note that he did not update his status too often. At least from what I could gauge from my limited investigation, there were no updates about what he ate for dinner, or a play-by-play of his daily activities. The last update was that he practically ran smack into Brett Michaels walking down Sullivan Street. I sort of hoped he’d show signs of being at least slightly dorky so I wouldn’t feel immensely less cool but no, he had perfected subtlety to a science. But at least he hadn’t tagged himself in any status updates with Mary Jones.
My stomach grumbled and I decided it was a sign that I should quit while I was ahead and make something for dinner before his status suddenly changed to “in a relationship.” But as I stood up, I noticed a new notification at the top of my page that I’d received an email. When I opened the message and saw it was from Hannah, my mouth went dry. Opting not to put off the inevitable, I read it:
Hi Kim,
Long time, no see! Thanks for accepting my friend request. I hope all is well and look forward to catching up with you at the reunion. You’re going right? Can’t wait!
Best,
Hannah
My heart was pounding. She didn’t even mention Cut on the Bias . Did she think I was stupid? Like I hadn’t put two and two together as to why, after ten years, she would suddenly initiate a friendship with me? I shook my head in disbelief. If she had any respect for me at all, she would have come clean and at least mentioned our mutual interest in chick lit. It might have even made me question my reluctance to review her book. After all, it had been a decade since we shared the same hallways in high school. She might have matured from the girl who enthusiastically urged me to join the drama club the year they were performing The Wizard of Oz since I was so talented, but also because I wouldn’t even need a costume to play one of the munchkins. Instead, her transparent phoniness convinced me that time had not changed her one bit.
I fucking hated Facebook.
CHAPTER 8
“I’LL BRING THE PROSECCO,” Bridget said.
“Cool. I’ll pick up cheese and crackers and some frozen hors d’oeuvres at Fairway.” I was on the phone with Bridget discussing the pre-game party for the reunion.
“Sounds good, but don’t bring anything too filling. I don’t want to be so full from food that the booze has no effect. I must be pleasantly tipsy when we get to the main event! And I also don’t want my dress to feel tight or show any gut from too much eating.”
Picturing Bridget’s size-4 body, I rolled my eyes, “What gut?”
“Everyone looks fat compared to you, K.”
“Bridge, I might be about 15 pounds thinner than you but I’m also 4 inches shorter. That makes us equally thin and I’m actually bigger since my tits probably weigh about 5
Afraid that continuing to look at his albums would do more harm than good, I decided to do a brief perusal of his recent wall posts. I vowed to only check what was visible on the first screen and not under any circumstances, scroll farther down by clicking “older posts.” It made me feel better to impose at least minimal conditions on my stalking experience.
It was interesting to note that he did not update his status too often. At least from what I could gauge from my limited investigation, there were no updates about what he ate for dinner, or a play-by-play of his daily activities. The last update was that he practically ran smack into Brett Michaels walking down Sullivan Street. I sort of hoped he’d show signs of being at least slightly dorky so I wouldn’t feel immensely less cool but no, he had perfected subtlety to a science. But at least he hadn’t tagged himself in any status updates with Mary Jones.
My stomach grumbled and I decided it was a sign that I should quit while I was ahead and make something for dinner before his status suddenly changed to “in a relationship.” But as I stood up, I noticed a new notification at the top of my page that I’d received an email. When I opened the message and saw it was from Hannah, my mouth went dry. Opting not to put off the inevitable, I read it:
Hi Kim,
Long time, no see! Thanks for accepting my friend request. I hope all is well and look forward to catching up with you at the reunion. You’re going right? Can’t wait!
Best,
Hannah
My heart was pounding. She didn’t even mention Cut on the Bias . Did she think I was stupid? Like I hadn’t put two and two together as to why, after ten years, she would suddenly initiate a friendship with me? I shook my head in disbelief. If she had any respect for me at all, she would have come clean and at least mentioned our mutual interest in chick lit. It might have even made me question my reluctance to review her book. After all, it had been a decade since we shared the same hallways in high school. She might have matured from the girl who enthusiastically urged me to join the drama club the year they were performing The Wizard of Oz since I was so talented, but also because I wouldn’t even need a costume to play one of the munchkins. Instead, her transparent phoniness convinced me that time had not changed her one bit.
I fucking hated Facebook.
CHAPTER 8
“I’LL BRING THE PROSECCO,” Bridget said.
“Cool. I’ll pick up cheese and crackers and some frozen hors d’oeuvres at Fairway.” I was on the phone with Bridget discussing the pre-game party for the reunion.
“Sounds good, but don’t bring anything too filling. I don’t want to be so full from food that the booze has no effect. I must be pleasantly tipsy when we get to the main event! And I also don’t want my dress to feel tight or show any gut from too much eating.”
Picturing Bridget’s size-4 body, I rolled my eyes, “What gut?”
“Everyone looks fat compared to you, K.”
“Bridge, I might be about 15 pounds thinner than you but I’m also 4 inches shorter. That makes us equally thin and I’m actually bigger since my tits probably weigh about 5
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