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“Who are you?”
Shaking my head, I exit back to her Instagram profile and open Facebook. It loads to her account, login credentials saved.
A soft laugh puffs out of me. “It’s like you want me to have easy access.”
The Facebook feed isn’t as personalized as her Instagram, mostly full of video shares of Tasty videos—damn, girl has a real sweet tooth—and tagged photos with Maisy Landry at a wellness retreat resort, some fancy cabin campground that screams glamping instead of real camping.
Skimming through her files, my annoyance rises. There’s no protection against what I’m doing. Her security is so lax. This isn’t even hard, any creep can learn to do it with shitty spyware.
“Fucking pain in the ass,” I grumble, opening a new window to code in.
A short while later, Thea’s computer has security protocols in place that rival the ones I installed for my own computer system. The only outside threat able to get into her stuff is me. No other little shit will spy on her with her webcam.
Only me.
Nine
Connor
At the end of the week, my good day goes to hell fast. I’m walking down the north building’s hallway on my way to class when I stop in my tracks.
Thea stands with Mr. Coleman, chatting animatedly, her eyes all lit up as her hands move. Today’s thick sweater is a peach color with bobbles. She almost drops the stack of books in her arms and laughs as Coleman steps closer to help her catch them. Too close. He leans into her space, his attention rapt as she continues talking.
The rush of annoyance rises so fast I almost go lightheaded.
Hell fucking nah, man.
My feet move before I’ve even formed a plan.
“Hey, baby, I was hoping I’d see you before lunch,” I say, interrupting whatever Coleman was about to tell her. My arm slides around her waist and tugs her to my side, away from our English teacher. I nuzzle into her hair, shooting a flat look at Coleman. “Mm, you smell nice today.”
“I, uh,” Thea chokes out. I back off a little, but keep my arm around her. Her mouth keeps moving, but no words come out. She looks from me to Coleman, confusion etched into her features. “Connor?”
Pinching my collar and flicking, I say, “One and only.”
“We can continue this discussion another time, perhaps. I’ll leave you with your…boyfriend, Miss Kennedy,” Coleman says, disappointment in her threading his voice. “Mr. Bishop, tighten your tie.”
Fucking prick. I resist flipping off his back as he walks down the hallway. The milling students give us curious glances as they pass.
“You’re still, uh. Holding me?” It comes out as a question. She licks her lips, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the attention we’re drawing with this public display of possession.
“Good eye.”
A beat passes, then she drags out her question. “Why?”
Yeah, might as well do this now. I’ve got enough info in place to make my move.
“Plenty of reasons. Your cute expression right now, for one. Felt like it when I saw you. And…” I fish out my phone and show it to her. On the screen is the last message she sent me from an hour ago—her school blouse unbuttoned in a bathroom stall to show me her mouth-watering rack in a lavender bra with ribbon bows. “I like the little game we’ve been playing, but we could be doing so much more.”
Air hisses out of Thea and she sags. I shift my grip to hold her up so she doesn’t collapse in the middle of the hall.
“What is that?” Horror fills her tone and the color drains from her face. “How do you have that?”
Releasing a dark chuckle, I put my phone away and cage her against the row of lockers. “What’s wrong? You liked it so much before now.”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “N-no.”
“Yes.”
