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Nothing.

I stare at Callie’s profile picture.

Three more days.

Then I close the app.

17

CALLIE

James Miller is back.

I stare at james_miller4729 in my Story views.

“Huh.”

I tap his profile again. Nothing has changed since last night. No profile picture. No posts. No followers. He’s not following anyone.

Basically, James Miller doesn’t exist.

Or he’s a bot.

Except bots usually follow people and spam them with messages promising to increase their followers by ten thousand in three days.

James does nothing. He just watches me.

I glance at the time. It’s been less than twenty minutes since I posted a picture of my iced coffee and laptop. James has already seen it.

“Good morning, James.”

Mr. Pickles lifts his head from where he’s curled beside me on the couch.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

His eyes narrow.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He puts his head back down.

I return to Instagram.

I click over to Obsidian Designs and check the poll I posted earlier. Option two won.

Good.

My phone rings. It’s Violet.

I answer. “You have terrible taste.”

“Good morning to you, too.”

“Option two won.”

“By how much?”

“Sixty-two percent.”