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7
When I walk into my building, I automatically check the counter, praying that I’ll see a familiar, sympathetic face there. Instead, Paul just waves at me, a bored smile on his face as he buzzes the door open. I grimace and walk past him, trying not to think too much about why I’m already so anxious to see Zayne.
Plus, part of me is thinking about this photo already. About what it means. About who had access to it… Because I only ever sent it to one person. But I don’t want to think that. I don’t want to believe it.
It couldn’t be him. Could it? Maybe someone stole his phone. Hacked his account. Or maybe my phone got hacked—I sent the pic to him over bar wifi. That’s not the most secure connection.
Just as I step across the threshold into my apartment, my phone rings. I glance down at the caller ID, breath held. Celeste. Thank god. I answer it right away, say hello in a strained voice.
"Oh god, Clove honey, I just saw."
"I don't know what happened." My eyes sting. "How could somebody do this? Why? And who would want to?"
"Slow down, slow down. First question first. How? Who took this picture?"
I swallow hard, to calm my racing heart. "I did."
"Okay. On your phone?"
"Of course, Celeste. I didn't hire a professional photographer or anything. Obviously." I choke out a hollow laugh.
She sighs. "But your phone is still on you. Nobody stole it, you didn't leave it unlocked anywhere."
"No of course not."
"So, who did you share this picture with?"
I blink. Stare at the wall across from me in blank shock. "I... only one person."
He's the one I took it for after all. The one I trusted with a half-naked selfie, when I'd barely ever trusted anyone with something like that before.
How could I have been so stupid?
"Zayne," I whisper, my throat aching with the single word.
"Who?" I can practically hear the disdain from here. The fury.
"A guy that I..." I close my eyes. I can't tell her the whole story. It's too idiotic. I knew this was a bad idea, knew I shouldn't get involved with someone from my building, someone so close to home. All men are the same, and now I have an asshole right on my doorstep who I'll have to walk past for the rest of my life. An asshole who might have just ruined my life.
If it was him. If.
Part of me still doesn't want to believe it. Refuses to. Not after this weekend. Not after how we felt together.
But what other explanation is there? Unless maybe someone stole it from him, stole it from his phone... my brow furrows.
"Hello? Earth to planet Clove. Come in Clove."
I blink and shake my head. "What did you say?"
"You're the one who trailed off mid-sentence. A guy that you what, met on that app? Did you meet him in person at all or did you skip straight to handing him damning blackmail evidence?"
I wince. "We met. We... we went out a few times." Well. We were technically outside of his apartment once, anyway. "It went really well actually. I can't imagine he'd do this."
"If he did, I swear I'll skin him alive," she mutters through gritted teeth. "You need to talk to him. Ask him what the fuck happened. He might know something even if it wasn’t him. And if it was, you just give me his address and let me at him, you hear?"
I can feel myself nodding even though I know she can't see that. And of course I wouldn’t let her actually kill the guy. "I will. Thanks, Celeste. Look, I have to run now, but—"
"Yeah, don't worry, I'll be around anytime you need me. And if you do need me to murder him, just ring beforehand okay, so I can pull all my supplies together?"
