Page 32 of Lucy and Her Wicked Three

"What?"

"Tell him about the stalker," I interrupt them, and Mateo looks at me in alarm.

Silas, thankfully, takes that seriously. "Dude, there was this crazy chick hanging out outside the apartment."

"What did she look like?" Mateo asks uneasily.

Silas, being an incredible artist, taps a few times on his tablet, then the stylus in his hand quickly moves across the screen. Flipping the tablet around, he says, "Like this. But with brown hair, and she kinda had this—"

"That's Delaney," Mateo huffs. Then he digs out his phone, taps a few buttons, then hands it to Silas, showing him a picture from Lucy's social media account.

"Yeah, that's the one. Wait, that's the chick that accused you of cheating?"

"Yes. And she's not supposed to be within a hundred feet of Lucy. I'm calling my lawyer," he says, already pulling up the contact.

"Did Lucy get a restraining order?" Silas sits up, suddenly more concerned.

"No. But I had my lawyer tell her if she came within a hundred fucking feet of Lucy, I'd make her life a living hell. Obviously, she's testing my resolve."

Mateo wanders off, shouting at his lawyer before his bedroom door slams shut. Silas and I look at each other.

"So, this girl, Delaney, is what? Stalking Lucy?" I ask.

"I don't know. We should ask her about it. Matty's seeing nothin' but fire and brimstone with that girl since she tried to fuck with his relationship. I doubt he has the patience to get all the facts straight."

"Did Lucy say anything about it today?" I ask.

Silas shakes his head. "No, but it's probably what she meant when she said she had some personal shit going on."

Pulling out my phone, I open her profile, replaying the last video she posted where she's jumping into a pool. Her white blonde hair darkens, bright smile shining in the night, skin glistening with water from the swim. I hadn't paid much attention to the comments before, instead focusing on the videos and pictures. Admittedly, they are distractingly sexy.

After reading a few of the comments, though, I'm worried. While I'm confident Mateo can deal with the Delaney situation, I'm more concerned about Lucy. Following the trolls, I click on links and tags, finding a video of WaywardDelaney, crying about social media pressure and expressing her concern for Lucy's wellbeing. What a fucking crock of shit.

Silas keeps working on his tablet but I can tell he's listening in, getting angrier, the more videos I play. Frustrated, I close the app. The internet is so fucked up. I don't even know how to help Lucy, because my first inclination is to tell her to just delete the accounts and purge the toxic people from her life, but it's how she makes a living.

The comments aren't nice. They're saying Lucy's fake, accusing her of working with Delaney to fake the cheatingscandal. Every comment is contradictory to each other. And it's not just a few. It's thousands. No wonder she's upset.

I head to my room, even though it's too early to sleep. Pulling up Lucy's phone number, which I've yet to use, I send her a text.

Noah: I'm glad you're doing okay.

She's a social media influencer, so I expect her to reply immediately, assuming her phone's attached to her hand. But she doesn't reply.

Self-conscious unease pools in my gut as an hour goes by, then two, without a response. I try to distract myself with a shower, then watch TV in my room, getting into a documentary about volcanoes. It occurs to me she probably doesn't have my number, so she probably doesn't know who sent her that message. Feeling like an idiot, I text her again.

Noah: This is Noah, by the way. I heard you're coming over for dinner tomorrow night. What do you like to eat?

I already know the answer, just from watching her videos. She eats healthy, but she's adventurous. She'll eat almost anything, and she isn't picky. But she doesn't eat trash like me and Silas do.

Another hour goes by and there's no response.

Silas said their afternoon went great. That they cuddled, even, and she kissed him goodbye.

Maybe it's me. Maybe she's not into me.

I try not to overthink, but it's in my nature. I give sleep a half-hearted attempt, but I can already tell it's going to be one of those nights. Grabbing my laptop, I open up the software Silas and I built and start coding, working on the latest game, cleaning up lines from the notes Silas gave me.

Thoughts of Lucy creep in. I try not to feel left out, and not blow her lack of response to my text completely out of proportion. But it's difficult.

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