Part of me hopes she’ll come back. I have half a mind to start up a sexting session with her while I’m accessing her webcam for a double feature, picturing her wearing only the apron and nothing underneath.
But it’s better for me if she isn’t in the room. Even if she doesn’t know how to prevent hackers like me from doing exactly what I’m doing, there’s a chance she’d notice activity on her computer while I’m remotely accessing the files. I have to be quick, then I can play with her posing as Wyatt later.
Starting with the browser history, I download it to my files to comb through later. The page with Instagram open is her account—@theactualsunbeam. I scroll through the images, clicking at random. The whole thing is a mix of baking and floral aesthetic, mixed with an underlying obsession with positive optimism and self-love quotes. Thick thighs save lives. Be kind always. Spread love (and cookies) around the world. Local goddess gang.
She seems like a fucking woodland creature, too wholesome and good for this world.
Except I know the truth.
I unlock my phone, where the real Thea is. Picking a photo from this morning, I stare at what she shows me—the most stripped down, raw version of herself.
“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.”
“I don’t believe you.” Thea sucks on her bottom lip. “I’ve heard rumors.”
I lift a brow.
She huffs. “You copied my phone somehow. Read through my private conversations.”
“What makes you think you’re interesting enough to be a target for something so elaborate? You’re a nobody. Invisible. We don’t notice you.” I grasp her jaw, narrowing my eyes. “You’re the one that started it when you sent me that pic of you in your nightie with your boobs almost spilling out. You wanted someone to pay attention and I did.”
“I don’t believe you. I think you’re just making fun of me again.”
A wild grin crosses my face. With a deft move, I pop a button on my shirt, then another. “Want me to strip to prove it? How much do you need to see? Abs?” I lick my lips slowly, making sure she’s watching before I drop my hands to my belt. “More?”
In a flustered frenzy, she clamps her hands over mine, squeezing with more strength than I would’ve guessed. In my periphery, I feel the eyes of people openly staring at the scene we’re making.
I laugh. “Feisty, huh? Can’t keep your hands off me.”
Thea lets go as if I’ve burned her. I prop my hands on either side of her head and crowd her against the lockers again.
“I’m not bluffing,” I say. “I’ve seen more of you than I bet you’ve shown to anyone, sunshine.”
“This can’t be happening,” Thea utters, more to herself than me.
“Damn, how horny are you, Bishop?” Sean taunts as he passes us in the hall. “You’re hitting up the uptight nerds now?”
Keeping my eyes on Thea, I snort and play with one of the bobbles on her sweater. “I needed a snack and she was the closest chick around.”
His sharp cackle makes Thea flinch, the sound grating as he swaggers down the hall. I grit my teeth and grab her, looking for somewhere private to talk. I can’t hash this out with her and field interruptions demanding a different kind of show. She follows obediently.
“In here.” I herd her into an empty classroom by my grip on her upper arm to get the prying, gossiping eyes off us.