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“She was pissed,” he says with a grin. “They were her favorite period panties.”
I curl my lip up. “TMI, Demps. Some stuff you just keep to yourself.”
He cracks up laughing and then polishes off his bowl. “I’m going to grab us some dessert. Be right back.”
As soon as he leaves, I decide to check in on my socials. I love looking at the analytics of each post or video to see how many people it reached and how many of those people interacted. Dempsey chats up the lady at the counter, so I decide to peek at my messages. Sometimes it takes me hours to get through them, so if I stay on it, checking in every couple of hours, I don’t drown in messages. Sure enough, I have nearly fifty that need going through.
One catches my eye.
@TwoCanPlayThisGameX2
It’s that creepy profile that messaged me yesterday. They created another account. I’m inclined to just delete and block without looking at the message, but curiosity has me opening it.
Online, you’re anything but real.
Two’s harsh voice fills my head. Fake. I’d been hurt by such a simple word. Being called fake is something that happens often to me, but it’d been extra brutal coming out of Two’s mouth this morning.
Is this him?
Is he the one messaging me?
As much as I’d love to pin the weirdo as also being the creep, I know that’s a reach. Two didn’t know who I was until I introduced myself this morning in class. He wasn’t impressed either.
Against my better judgment, I reply to the creepy account.
Who is this?
I tap my sharp nails on the table surface as I wait for a response. Seconds later, I get a reply that makes my blood run cold.
You’ll know me soon enough.
“Best chocolate mousse pie this side of the Pacific,” Dempsey says, dropping a piece of pie down beside my tray. “Cara guarantees it.”
“Who’s Cara?” I ask, distracted by the bone-chilling message I just received.
“Soup lady Cara. Over there. Pay attention.” He snaps his fingers in front of my face. “This dude really does have you all fucked in the head.”
For once, today, this isn’t about Two.
It’s about this person doing their damnedest to scare me. Maybe it’s Spencer. This sounds exactly like something he’d do.
Or it could be something far more sinister.
I don’t respond to the sender and instead block and delete like I should have from the beginning. This creep is probably sitting in his mom’s basement in some other country far away from me. No need to worry.
“I’m fine,” I say to Dempsey, tossing my phone into my bag and flashing him a brilliant smile. “See. All better.”
He pushes the plate toward me. “Good. Now try the pie and report back.”
He digs into his, practically inhaling it. Amused at his excitement, I follow suit and take a bite. An explosion of silky, decadent, rich chocolate assaults my taste buds in the most delightful way.
“Oh,” I groan, “wow.”
“Right? Will Sloane be disappointed if I dump her for Cara?”
We both crack up laughing. There’s no way in hell Dempsey would ever let Sloane go. It’s amusing to imagine, though.
When we’re finished with lunch, we thank Cara and promise to come back in soon. It makes me a little sad that we were the only ones in there the entire time at what should be one of the busier times of day for a restaurant.
