It made my blood boil, raising the anger inside me past my breaking point. I’d tried everything else with him and it hadn’t worked. It was time I got direct.
Colin: Don’t send me shit like that. Give it up. You don’t have the looks or the equipment to work for Petal.
It was harsh, but honest, and hopefully it’d break through to him.
The ‘read’ label appeared below my message, and then the three dots blinked, signaling he was typing his reply.
But then the dots disappeared.
I waited, but there was no response, and I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. My gut said it was bad, and that I was stupid to believe this would work. I wasn’t comfortable that he knew where we lived, but it wasn’t something I could control, and besides . . . Riley was an asshole, I told myself, but he wasn’t evil.
Right?
I needed this to be the end of it.
Fuck, please let him move on.
The second to last day of the summer semester, my dad texted me he was free for lunch, was on this side of town, and would pick me up after class. I tried to get out of it altogether, but he was persistent, and I had to settle for meeting him at the deli.
At least he wouldn’t have my bike in the back of his car, so he couldn’t use that as an easy excuse to drive me to the Woodsons’ house. My parents were hungry for more about this mentor program I’d been accepted into, yet all I’d given them was crumbs.
As we ate, I did my best to distract.
“A girlfriend?” My dad’s expression filled with surprise. “When did this happen?”
“A few weeks ago.”
Now he looked displeased. “Okay. When do we get to meet her?”
“You already did,” I said. “Mads is the girl who asked me to walk her to class.”
He considered something, and then a tight smile twisted on his lips. “Did she make up that story so she could talk to you?”
No, she did it to save me from you.
“No,” I said, which wasn’t a lie. Mads hadn’t made up the story because she wanted to talk to me—we weren’t even friends back then.
“Oh.” My dad’s gaze dropped to the sandwich resting on his plate. “Well, tell me about her. What’s her major?”
“Accounting. She’s graduating early, too. This fall semester will be her last one.”
He brightened. “Sounds like she’s pretty smart.”
“Can’t be that smart,” I deadpanned. “She’s dating me, after all.”
My dad’s smile was pained, and it made me want to laugh. He’d never gotten my sense of humor, probably because he’d been born without one. My parents were so fucking uptight. Honestly, it was a miracle my sister and I had been born, because I was convinced they were terrified of sex.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, only it wasn’t a text message. My phone was ringing, and when I saw Mads’ name on the screen, a cold chill slide down my spine. Up until now, we’d always texted. She wouldn’t call unless it was something important.
I was instantly on edge but tried to play it cool as I motioned to my phone. “Hold on. She’s calling me.” I tapped the button to accept the call. “Hello?”
“Hey. Where are you?” There was urgency in Mads’ voice, or maybe panic.
My gaze was fixed on my father, who studied me right back. “I’m having lunch with my dad. What’s up?”
“A little while ago, someone tried to post our real names in a comment under one of our videos.”
My heart began to pound. I forced myself to sound unconcerned. “Riley.”
“The comment got caught in moderation, so it never went live.”
I relaxed my shoulders, but my relief was short lived because she wasn’t done. The panic in her words grew more intense as she spoke.
“When that didn’t work, he posted it to social media instead. It’s on Instagram and Facebook, with a bunch of screencaps from our videos, and it’s all our information. Our stage names, and our real ones, and the fucking address of the house.”
I went numb, freezing into place. For a moment, my brain went blank, unable to process what I was feeling because there were too many things at once.
“Colin,” her tone shifted, filling with dread, “he tagged you in the posts.”
I sucked in a sharp breath and if my unnatural posture wasn’t a dead giveaway to my dad that something was wrong—this did it.
His head tilted. “Everything okay?”
I blinked, unable to answer because Mads was still going.
“I reported the posts, but they’re in review and—oh, God—everything I’m reading says it could be more than a day before they come down.” She took a breath, regrouping. “You need to get on your socials and un-tag yourself right now. Call me back when it’s done.”
“Okay,” I said quietly. “Will do.”