but now it turns out there was some random Peeping Tom in the woods there with us. It’s not just ours
anymore. It feels tawdry now. It certainly looks that way. In the moment I felt free, and adventurous,
maybe even sexy. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt sexy in my whole life. And now I just want to not
exist.
I’m lying in bed staring up at the ceiling, phone at my side. Margot and Kitty have forbidden me
from looking at the video. They tried to take my phone away, but I told them I need it for when Peter
calls. Then I snuck a look at the video, and so far there are over a hundred comments, none good.
Kitty’s playing with Jamie Fox-Pickle on the floor and Margot’s emailing Instagram customer
service when Chris knocks on my window. Margot unlocks it for her, and Chris climbs inside,
shivering and pink-cheeked. “Is she okay?”
“I think she’s in shock,” Kitty says.
“I’m not in shock,” I say. But maybe I am. Maybe this is shock. It’s a queer, surreal sort of feeling,
like I’m numb, but also all my senses feel heightened.
Margot says to Chris, “Why can’t you come in through the front door like a normal person?”
“Nobody answered.” Chris yanks off her boots and sits down on the floor next to Kitty. Petting
Jamie, she says, “Okay, first of all, you can barely tell it’s you. And second of all, it’s really hot, so
there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, you look great.”
Margot makes a disgusted sound. “That’s so beside the point I don’t even know where to begin.”
“I’m just being honest! Objectively, it sucks, but also objectively, Lara Jean looks awesome in it.”
Crawling under my quilt, I say, “I thought you could barely even tell it was me! I knew I shouldn’t
have gone on that ski trip. I hate hot tubs. Why would I willingly get into a hot tub?”
“Hey, be glad you were in your pajamas,” Chris says. “You could have been nude!”
My head pops out from under the quilt and I glare at her. “I would never be nude!”
Chris snorts. “Never nude. Did you know that’s a real thing? Some people call themselves never-
nudes and they wear clothes at all times, even in the shower. Like, jean shorts.”
I turn on my side, away from Chris.
The weight of my bed shifts as Margot climbs in. “It’s going to be fine,” she says, peeling back the
blanket. “We’ll get them to take the video down.”
“It won’t matter,” I say. “Everyone’s already seen it. They all think I’m a slut.”
Chris’s eyes go narrow. “So are you saying that if a girl has sex in a hot tub, that makes her a
slut?”
“No! That’s not what I’m saying; that’s what other people are saying.”
“Then what are you saying?” she demands.
I look at Kitty, who’s braiding Chris’s hair in microbraids. She’s being extra quiet so we forget
she’s here and don’t kick her out. “I think that as long as you’re ready and it’s what you want to do
and you’re protecting yourself, then it’s okay and you should do what you want to do.”
Margot says, “Society is far too caught up in shaming a woman for enjoying sex and applauding a
man. I mean, all of the comments are about how Lara Jean is a slut, but nobody’s saying anything
about Peter, and he’s right there with her. It’s a ridiculous double standard.”
I hadn’t thought of that.
Chris looks down at her phone. “Like, three different people just texted the video to me as we
were sitting here.”
I let out a sob and Margot says, “Chris, that’s not helping. At all.” To me she says, “If people say
singke
(singke)
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