I don’t want to get Hannah in trouble. It’s clear it was for me if she saw Hannah assembling it this morning and me carrying it now, but I don’t bother verifying. “Can you get on with ruining my day? I’ve got class.”
Her eyes are still narrowed with dislike, but she makes a visible effort to shake it off and get back to whatever had her excited. “I guess low-class whores have to stick together.” As she says this, her gaze lingers on my neck.
I don’t know why until I glance in the mirror and realize, to my utter horror, Dare left bruises on my neck from his bites and rough kisses last night.
I lose a shade of color, but Anae doesn’t miss a step. Her heels click as she walks over to stand beside me—odd, in and of itself—then she tilts her phone screen so I can see it.
My heart drops into my stomach when the video she posted on her social media account a minute ago starts playing. It’s her and Dare in bed together. He’s shirtless. She’s wearing a skimpy white top that looks striking against her sunkissed skin. They look gorgeous in what appears to be her bedroom, lying together under the covers. They’re both sitting up in bed. It looks like they woke up together and are casually messing around on their phones as they while away the morning. His hair is mussed from sleep and he looks so handsome. He’s on his phone, but looks over to find her posing at the camera.
Text pops up on the screen that reads, “When you’re in bed with your boyfriend and he tells you about the fugly skank who sent him nudes.”
My heart bottoms out of my body completely. She smirks in the video and he reaches over, his big hand covering the camera. The video then transitions to the photo I sent Dare the other night of me in the panties he bought me with a caption above it reading, “Pathetic.”
My heart—and every other organ in my body—seems to halt. My soul rips free and flies away. I can’t breathe, and only dimly register the white text she added below reading, “Nice try, Aubrey. The boy is mine.”
She added the hashtags #weshareeverything and #couplegoals.
All I can hear is the beating of my heart thrumming in my ears.
She didn’t really share that picture of me on her social media… right? She’s not that evil.
How did she even get it?
Did he give it to her?
The video definitely makes it look like…
I can’t breathe.
I reach out blindly and grip the edge of the sink to keep myself standing up. My brain is frozen with horror. Somehow, I get out, “Take that down. Right now.”
I know it’s too late, that some people will still have seen it, but most people should be on their way to class…
Yeah, walking the halls, playing on their phones.
Oh my god. Everyone is going to see this.
“Anae, I’m serious. Take it down.”
“Nope,” she says cheerfully, pointing at her phone screen without touching it. “Would you look at that? Already 37 likes.”
Oh my god.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.
I feel like throwing up. I’m on the verge of hyperventilating. My heart pounds so hard I can’t hear anything else, and I can’t think clearly.
She looks over at me, smiling as she drops her phone into her Chanel handbag. “Hey, maybe it’ll go viral.”
I want to kill her.
I want to grab a fistful of her glossy blonde hair and bang her head against the edge of the sink until she is lying in a bloody heap on the fucking floor.
“Take the video down,” I tell her, “or I will go to the police.”
“No, you won’t,” she says easily. “Even if you do, I don’t care. What’s the fine, like a thousand dollars? That’s a pair of shoes for me, and a price I would happily pay to see this look on your face.” She folds her hands together like it’s just too darling and looks over at Mallory. “Isn’t this a lovely moment? I’m going to treasure it.”
I let go of the sink and turn around, making a beeline for the exit.
“Oh, and Aubrey?”
I glance back at her.
She loses her smile, her eyes cool and threatening. “In case you didn’t get the message: stay the fuck away from my boyfriend.”
Tears blur my vision as I leave the school without going back to my locker for my books. I don’t even think to look both ways before crossing the parking lot, but fortunately it’s pretty dead since the first class of the day is starting.
My hands tremble as I fish my keys out of my purse and jam the car key into the ignition. I feel too shaky to really trust myself to drive, but I also have to get out of here.