20
Ten minutes until class. I’d overslept again. I was doing my best, setting multiple alarms at weird intervals. I’d thought I’d fixed it, but the sheer exhaustion from stress was catching up to me.
But lucky, that would soon be in the past. There has been a lot less stress in my life lately. I knew who my friends were, and they had made it abundantly clear to me how much they cared for me. I was lucky to have them. My three guys, my three girls, two sides of the same coin. I felt cared for.
I slung my bookbag over my shoulder and reached for my phone. Before I could grab it, it buzzed.
Every time the phone made that sound, I felt a spike of panic in my chest. I slid my finger across the screen.
Time’s up.
In a way, I felt like I was almost getting used to these messages. I lowered the phone, too emotionally exhausted to do anything else.
The phone buzzed again.
Go the fuck back to the weeds where you came from or else.
I had spent so much time in the past few weeks wondering if I should stay. The answer seemed to change with every passing moment, every teardrop, every hug and reassuring word.
My fear began to slip away. Anger took its place. My heart hardened. How dare they do this to me? How dare they try and threaten me and the ones I cared for?
The guys were trying their best, but the blackmailer was careful. They hadn’t been able to trace back any concrete evidence.
Time to take matters into my own hands.
I opened up a reply, and started typing.
Go to hell and stay out of my life forever. I’m done with this and I’m done with you.
I hit the send button without even thinking about it. No more living in fear. I was done playing their games.
I made it to class with a minute to spare. I stopped just outside the door to fix myself from the jog I’d just taken. As I tried to make quick work of my ponytail, I noticed something. Three students with phones in their hands were looking directly at me. That was bold of them. Had they read my latest installment? It had been pretty steamy, true, but nothing too scandalous.
I walked into class.
I froze.
Everyone was staring at me.
There were a few whispers ofholy shitandthere she is.
They all had their phones out.
I backed out of the classroom and flipped mine open. There was a notification about the newest post on the VIP literary magazine website.
INNOCENT AND SWEET, OR RUTHLESS AND INSATIABLE? read the headline.
It was all there. Every last bit of it. A full exposé, detailing all of my activities with each of my boys. Times and locations, photos of us in public together, all of it. I scrolled desperately down the page. There was nothing from our private encounters, thank god, but the sheer investigative work was impressive, interspersed with wild accusations about how I was sleeping my way through my educational career, starting with a few of the most powerful men on campus.
Raging fury exploded in my chest.
I had to get this taken down.
I ran from the classroom directly to the VIP Lit offices. When I burst through the doors I saw the three boys standing at one of the computers.
“Tell me you deleted it,” I gasped out, catching my breath.
“We did,” Jaeson said. “The moment we saw it, we toasted the fuck out of it.”
