Jett

 

I am full of rage, and wish I could hit something. But you can’t hit the Internet, which is filled with anonymous assholes. Whoever this bitch is that started a tirade against my girlfriend is going to pay for it. But first, I have to take care of my girl.

“Baby, no one will care about this shit,” I say, wrapping her in my arms and resting my head on top of hers. I can tell she’s trying hard to hold back tears, but it’s not working. “Seriously.”

“It already has a ton of likes,” she says, her voice muffled as I hold her close. “People do care. They’re already saying you deserve better than me.”

I cringe. I was hoping she didn’t see that part on Twitter. Someone announced that I should break up with her, and lots of people retweeted it and agreed. I don’t understand what makes the fans think they can get involved with my personal life. Those aren’t the type of people I want rooting for me on the track. Those people can take their drama elsewhere.

I rub my hand down Keanna’s back. “Let’s do something to take your mind off this,” I say softly.

She pulls away. “I think I’m going to go shower.”

“Want me to come with you?” I ask, giving her a flirty look.

She steps back and shakes her head. “I just want to be alone. Just … please … just leave me alone for a while.”

It kills me to see her like this, but I know that she’s serious when she asks for time by herself.

“Okay,” I say. “Take your time.”

She grabs some clothes from her suitcase and slips into our hotel’s bathroom. I hear the water turn on, and I sit here feeling so damn hopeless.

On my phone, I report the girl who posted all those horrific things about Keanna, and then I block her. I scroll down and find every person who was saying anything remotely rude about my girlfriend and I block them, too.

Then I think carefully about my wording and I post a tweet to my profile.

 

Anyone who spreads untrue rumors, or says hateful things about me, my girlfriend, or anyone I care about is not a fan of mine. Don’t come to my races. Don’t buy my merch. Kindly fuck off.

 

I feel a little better after posting the tweet, and the replies and likes start coming in quickly, so I close the app to make sure I don’t get caught up in the stupid online drama. People can be so cruel. I don’t understand what goes through some of these girl’s heads. Do they think that calling my girlfriend a slut will make me dump her and then ask them out? Never happening.

Even if Keanna and I didn’t last forever, I’d never date a rude fan. You can’t trust them because they’re in it for the fame. I grind my teeth and stand up, needing to get all of this anger out of my system. I don’t even like thinking about it. Keanna and I are never splitting up. Not if I have anything to do with it.

I decide to step outside and take a walk down the hotel’s long empty corridor. It doesn’t help clear my mind any, so I call my dad. He always knows what to do.

“Hey, Dad,” I say when he answers.

“What’s wrong? I saw you got first place so you shouldn’t sound so upset, son.”

I take a deep breath. “I already forgot about the race actually,” I say.

“Why’s that?” Dad is always there for me. Because he’s younger than my friend’s dads, maybe he understands better. Or maybe he’s just a better person in general. Whatever it is, I’m never embarrassed to talk to him about what’s going on.

“Have you seen the drama online?”

He snorts. “I rarely ever go online.”

My dad’s not big into social media, so I guess that makes sense. At least this drama hasn’t spread very far yet. Maybe it will just stay on Twitter.

I sigh. “Some bitch got on Twitter and spread a bunch of horrible lies about Keanna. Calling her a slut and stuff. And then other fangirls piled on and they’re all attacking her online.”

“Damn, people are the worst,” Dad says. “How’s Keanna?”

“Not good. She wanted to be left alone, so I’m walking the hallways of the hotel.”

“You should go to her,” Dad says.

I shake my head. “It doesn’t work like that. If she wants to be alone, I have to respect that. I just feel so shitty. She’s not being attacked for who she is, but for who she’s dating. It’s all my fault that these girls are targeting her. I hate it.”

“I know the feeling,” he says after a moment. “You can’t let it get to you. Stick by your girl and ignore everything else.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“That’s what you will do,” he says. “You’ve got this, son. Just be strong for her and she’ll know you’ve got her back. She’s probably not mad about what the people were saying, but about how you’ll react to it.”

“I’m not going to leave her,” I say quickly.

Dad laughs. “I know. But trust me, that’s how girls are. They’ll worry that you will leave. That’s how your mom was. It never hurts to remind them that you’re not going anywhere.”

“Okay,” I say, reaching the end of the hallway. I turn around and walk back toward my hotel room. “I’ll do that.”

“You’re heading to San Antonio tomorrow?” Dad asks.

“Yeah, leaving at six in the morning.”

“Drive safe. Your sister misses you.”

I snort. “That’s because I’m the only one who knows how to play a decent game of peek-a-boo.”

“That might be true,” Dad says with a laugh. “Good luck tomorrow, Jett.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“And don’t worry,” he says. “This will blow over.”

I hope so. I really hope it does. Because I never want to see Keanna looking that upset again.