I see it, but it’s not computing. I try to pass her phone back. “That sounds like a science fiction show. How do you know it’s a couple name?”

Maren huffs, snatching the phone. “For a former celeb, you are woefully behind the times, Shelby.”

“For a park ranger, you’re surprisingly judgmental,” I grumble. “Just explain, please. Like I’m a kindergartner. Or, like, I’m me, a person without consistent Wi-Fi.”

Maren comes to stand next to me, tapping around her phone with a fluency that frankly surprises me. I had no idea she was so tech savvy. Maybe Maren should be my publicist. “Okay, watch,” she says. She pulls up the trending hashtags and clicks on the one that says Spriggs. Suddenly her screen is flooded with images of Cameron and me. Most are from when we were teens, freeze-frames from the infamous kiss. Others are from our trip out to the U.P.… us eating ice cream and holding hands and dancing like dorks at the flea market.

“They made us into gifs?” I ask, stunned.

“Yeah,” Maren answers happily. “People are drooling over how Cameron keeps stealing looks at you during the leaked talking heads.”

I squeak. “Leaked talking heads?” Lyle is going to shit a brick.

Maren shrugs. “Who knows how that happened. I doubt anyone will fess up, but look how adorable!”

I’m overwhelmed as his image turns to watch me over and over, a soft smile spreading on his full lips, his hands running down his thighs as if he’s nervous.

I don’t read the comments, but there are a lot. Like, thousands of comments and tweets and reposts or whatever. Our names, together, and people seem to like it.

“How on earth did this happen? Did I miss something?”

Maren bites her lip. “Have you talked to Lorelai lately?”

“I texted her this morning to see if she wanted to meet us for dinner. She said she was busy.”

Maren clicks around on her phone. “It’s actually very, very sweet. But I don’t think she had the first clue how fast it would go viral.”

“Viral?” My voice is slightly strangled.

Maren passes me her phone. By the looks of all the pictures, she’s pulled up Instagram. It’s Lorelai’s page … a quick glance at her numbers shows she wasn’t kidding when she told us people liked a bad bitch. Her follower count is in the hundreds of thousands, complete with a blue checkmark. Not bad for someone who hasn’t had a hit song in five years.