Sext(28)

I frown. "What?" No we didn't. No way. I would remember that.

He's nodding. "But you unmatched me almost right away. Before I could even message you or say anything."

I grimace. I do have a tendency to do that. When my app gets too clogged  with matches, I trim it down. Swipe left again on any guy who I'm not  100% sure would be my type, just to clear the space for guys who are  more my speed. "Prove it," I hear myself saying anyway, because I still  don't think I would have missed something like that. Zayne is hot as  hell in his profile pictures. Would I really unmatch him?

You spent years walking right past him, part of me points out. And  besides, it's not like his profile said anything much about his  interests or hobbies. Or even his job. Maybe I just assumed we'd have  nothing in common. He was pretty but that was about it.

Zayne, for his part, has sprung into action. He scrolls through his  phone, and then hands it to me. I stare at the app page, both unfamiliar  and familiar all at once. It's his other profile, his real one. There  are a few dozen messages sitting unread-probably from all those girls  he's been messaging while we've been apart for a few hours, I can't help  thinking, because even if he explains this profile, it still doesn't  explain why he'd lie to me about wanting to get off the app when he  clearly doesn't want to stop messaging other women yet. I ignore those  and watch as he swipes onto my profile, searching by previous matches.

There I am. Right on the screen, in the same pixels that damned him yesterday.

Previously matched, it says, but there's no contact button, no way to  message. He's right. We matched at some point, and then I unmatched him.

"But … " I trail off, biting my lip.

He heaves a sigh. "Clove, I liked you from the start. I tried to talk to  you on here, but you shut it down. And you never noticed me at the  door. So that night when that asshole tried to follow you home, and you  finally seemed to look at me-really look- I had to jump on that chance.  The only way to talk to you, I figured, was a match like this. I already  knew you were on the app, and we live in the same building, so I  figured if I made a new profile, it'd pair us soon enough. And it did,  thank god." His eyes bore into mine, as if he's willing me to believe  him.         

     



 

I want to. So badly. I want to just give in, quit asking all these  questions, trust him. But that's so hard to do. Especially after  everything that's happened. Everything I've seen.

I shake my head. "Okay, so you made a whole profile just to stalk me. Great. That's a real point in your favor."

"It wasn't to stalk you, Clove, it was just to start a conversation. If  you hadn't been interested, I would've dropped things right away. But  you answered, you struck up a conversation with me. It went both ways."

"Right. And how special was it really? More entertaining than the other  dozen conversations you have going on right now?" I roll my eyes and  hand the phone back to him.

"What, these?" He laughs, a scoff in the back of his throat. "I haven't  checked this profile in weeks. Especially not since I met you."

"Then why do you have so many unread messages?" I point out, rolling my  eyes. Now I do lean past him to jab the first floor button.

He's faster though, and double-taps it to unselect the floor, leaving us  suspended in midair once more. "Clove, look." He opens his message  section and points me at it. "See these last read messages? They're from  weeks ago, some of them months."

I stare at the inbox, my brow furrowing. "That can't be right."

Now it's his turn to scowl. "What, I can't possibly be telling you the truth?"

"What happened to all the conversations with the other women?" I counter, crossing my arms.

"Other …  What? Clove, there are no other women. There haven't been since we met."

"That's not what I saw."

"Saw where?" His frown has deepened even further, though I don't think  it's directed at me. He looks a million miles away now, thinking hard.

To bring him back to reality, I pull my phone out of my pocket. Now it's  my turn to open my app and pull up the messages that came in yesterday.  I flip the screen around, hold it out for him to see. At least today  the incoming calls and spamming sext-messages from total strangers have  calmed down enough that I can safely use it. Enough to show him this, at  any rate.

He reads. With every line he reads, his eyebrows rise higher, and his  jaw clenches. By the time he reaches the end of the messages, he looks  furious, angrier than I've ever seen him. His fists are clenched at his  sides, and his whole body trembles from the force of his fury.

"How fucking dare she."

I swallow again. Against my better judgment, against all of my  instincts, I believe that anger. He can't be this good of an actor, no  way. "Your ex?" I ask, a hesitant tremor in my voice.

He clenches my phone so tight in one fist that I'm almost afraid the screen will shatter. "How did she even … "

I gently pry my phone from his fingers, mostly to save its life. "Did  she make up those conversations? Because some of them … " I pull open the  one where he's talking to another girl. Trouble sleeping? "Seem awfully  familiar." I lift one pointed eyebrow.

Zayne grimaces. "Some of them are real. Probably most of them, I don't  remember. But the dates are all wrong. Look." He scrolls through his  phone. It takes him a while, but he eventually locates one of the  conversations, the one with CandyCane. Sure enough, it took place almost  two years ago. Same with another one, shortly afterward, with  XtraSaucy. In fact, almost all of the conversations are from that time  period. The screenshots are real, identical to his account message  history. All except for the dates which had been carefully, meticulously  altered.

"It's all the people I was messaging right after she and I broke up," he  finally says, his tone heavy. "Right when I first moved in here … " He  winces at one particularly sexy conversation. "Some of these are  embarrassing."

"Not as embarrassed as I am," I mutter, wincing.

"No, Clove. You couldn't have known." He wraps an arm around me, and  finally, after what feels like holding my breath for 24 hours, I sink  into his embrace once more. It scares me, how much I crave this. How  desperately I wanted him to touch me, even when I thought he'd been  betraying me, screwing me around. I still wanted him, even when I knew  I'd have to walk away.

That scares the shit out of me.

"The screenshots were so realistic … "

"I'd have thought the same thing as you," Zayne admits with a clenched  jaw. "I'm so sorry that you have to go through this mess. You don't  deserve this kind of drama. If you want to walk away now, to spare  yourself, I will completely understand."         

     



 

"Hell no." I wrap my arms around him too, and lean into his warm  embrace. "You don't deserve this kind of drama either, Zayne. I mean,  how did she even get those conversations?"

He scowls. "She must have access to my account. Nothing else makes  sense. She must have gotten in there and been able to see the  conversations, and … " His eyes widen, his jaw slackening. "That's how she  found your photo, too. It has to be. She took it from your inbox, where  we were messaging."

"Since she knows about both of your accounts, it must not have been too  hard," I agree. "If she hacked this old one, she must not have had a  hard time hacking the new one too."

"Christ, how long has she been doing this?" Zayne shakes his head. "Has  she targeted other people I've messaged? I never heard anyone talking  about being harassed like this, having their photos put up on a website  somewhere … "

"Doesn't mean it didn't happen. They might have just assumed you did it and sworn off ever speaking to you again." I sigh.

"Shit." Zayne pockets his phone in a single, angry gesture. "I have to stop this. I will. I'll fix it."

"How?" I catch his eye, my own wide with fear.

"I'm going to confront her. Tell her she needs to stop pulling this kind  of shit. I'll go to the police otherwise. We have proof it was her, and  if she hacked my accounts, then she probably still has more screenshots  like this saved. None of this is legal, Clove."

I can feel myself nodding, my heart rising in my chest once more. But still …  "You shouldn't have to talk to her. Let me."

"I couldn't ask you to do that."

"But you have all this history, this baggage. It will hurt you to confront her."

He's shaking his head hard. "It's my mess, Clove. I'll clean it up." He  steps back and presses the ground floor button. The elevator heaves  around us, like it's relieved to finally be in motion. As we whir down  toward the first floor, he finally seems to take a look at my outfit,  the whole thing, from head to toe. "What about you? You look like you're  off to take care of business, too."