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“He’s weird—and I’m not the first person to say so. All it takes is a quick visual appraisal.”
“But you were so mean, and he’s not that—” I skim the rest of the list until I get to the note beside Caleb’s name and let out another earsplitting shriek. “Nicole! No wonder Caleb was so handsy at the pool.”
She winces. “Sorry about that. If I’d known anyone but us would see it, I never would’ve written all that stuff down.”
“Who would post something so personal?” No matter how hard I try, I can’t tear my eyes from the page. This was no accident. It took coordinated effort. Malice aforethought. “Why would anyone want to destroy my life?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who was there that day? I remember seeing a few girls from Zeta Nu at the counter, but they weren’t anywhere near our table.”
“Those bitches don’t have enough brain cells between the three of them to figure out how to create a fake profile.”
“Who better to catfish the whole campus than a group of mean girls?”
“Maybe. But it’s possible I didn’t even drop it there. We didn’t go straight back to Delta Sig. It could’ve been almost anywhere.”
I should be furious with her. I am furious with her. But I was at the Beanery that day, too. I knew what she was doing, and I didn’t stop her. As much as I’d like to pretend otherwise, I’m as guilty as Nicole.
“I’ll fix this,” she whispers. “I promise.”
“How can you possibly fix this? This can’t be fixed. This is way worse than my mother setting me up with randos at the Save A Lot, or inviting creepy neighbors to dinner.”
She lowers her voice. “Worse than Lucas?”
“God, yes. Even that.” I release a jagged breath. “Even worse than when my dad found your Pornhub browser history on my laptop senior year!”
Nicole sucks in a sharp breath as if she finally gets it.
“What do I do now? Drop out of college?” I rest my forehead on my knees as my entire life flashes before my eyes. I don’t think I can survive another semester as the campus pariah. I barely survived the Lucas scandal last fall. And whoever took the time to actually post the list . . . am I supposed to let them win?
Neither of us speak.
Then a horrible idea comes to me, and in what can only be described as an out-of-body experience, I climb to my feet and hear my voice uttering the words, “Unless I roll with it . . . pretend I posted the list myself.”
Nicole chokes on her gum or her tongue or whatever else she has in her sputtering mouth. “You mean actually going through with it?”
“Everyone already believes I came up with a plan to lose my virginity. So is it really a stretch to think I posted the list?”
“Are you crazy? You’re actually—”
“Forging ahead with the stupid plan that snowballed out of control in less than a week’s time? Yes. I am.”
“But—”
“But what? You were supposed to destroy the evidence before anyone found out.”
Her voice cracks as she cuts me off. “And I said I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t help me. Unless you want me to come off like the victim . . .” Unless I’m ready to concede defeat to an enemy I can’t even name. “We need everyone to believe I meant that list to get out—the list you wrote. As far as anyone’s concerned, Kennedy Beaman’s Get Laid List was all my idea.”
My legs wobble beneath me as the reality of what I’ve just agreed to sets in, and I plop down on the toilet lid.
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispers. “I’ll figure something out.”
“If you want to make it up to me, you can take care of all the nitty-gritty details. You owe me that much. And it’s time you came home. No more hiding.”
“I will. I’ll come home first thing tomorrow. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything,” Nicole vows. “I promise.”
