Page 43 of Corrupt Me

Sam chewed on her bottom lip, tapping her newly painted black nails on the chair’s wooden arm. “We’d need access to his phone and computer. You don’t think he printed them, do you?”

I rolled up to a seated position on the bed, weaving my legs into a pretzel. “God, I fucking hope not. How are we going to get access to either?”

“I’m working on it.” Her fingers continued to rap on the wood, the only sound other than our breathing. “We could sneak into his room when he’s sleeping.”

“And if he wakes up?” I surmised, poking holes in her suggestion.

“One of us could distract him while the other grabs the goods.”

“And in this scenario, you want me to be the distraction?” I asked to clarify which role I would be assigned.

She leaned back in the chair, a frown forming on her mouth. “It would make more sense seeing Tristan and I can’t stand each other.”

“We need a better plan. I’m not throwing myself at Tristan,” I replied.

She lifted a brow. “Don’t pretend like being in his bed would be a hardship. It’s been your fucking fantasy for years. We can kill two birds with one stone,” Sam reasoned, pushing her idea.

“I hate that analogy.”

Her arms folded over her chest. “Do you have a better idea? It’s not like the man leaves his phone hanging around. He probably brings it with him when he showers.”

My eyes brightened, my lips curving out of the frown. “Sam. You’re a genius.”

“Well, yeah,” she said so obviously.

I shook my head. “No, I mean when he showers is the perfect time to sneak in and grab his phone and laptop.”

Confusion clouded her eyes. “You want to sneak into the bathroom?”

“Definitely not, but Tristan always leaves his phone charging in his bedroom. At least, he did at home. And the shower would provide the perfect noise cover for us to get in and out.”

“I like my idea better,” she grumbled.

My lips firmed. “Sam, I’m not climbing into Tristan’s bed.”

“You will,” she muttered. “It’s only a matter of time.”

Our plan wasn’t particularlydetailed or well thought out. It consisted of a rough outline. Ridiculously rough. We’d wait for the opportunity when Tristan came home from the gym. The man ritually showered after working out.

There were too many loose ends—too many unaccounted factors—but they were worth the risk at least to me.

What was the worst that could happen if he caught us?

Yell at me?

Days went by, and it was easy to get frustrated. Our timing never aligned, and I started to think Tristan deliberately avoided me. The one time he actually listened to something I said. Why did he have to start now?

Short of stalking his apartment, I had to be patient for our schedules to coordinate. I couldn’t let him think something was up with me or anything suspicious was happening. Easy since we never saw each other.

After the first week, discouragement set in. Halloween lingered around the corner, and with it, the campus buzzed with spooky energy, generating an increase in parties. Was there anything better than dressing up, eating a shit ton of candy, and watching scary movies the entire night? Not to me. I loved this time of year, and the impending holiday distracted me from my plan, but getting those photos never strayed far from my thoughts.

I hated to admit that neither did the person responsible for taking them.

The week hadn’t been completely wasteful.

Sam’s sleuthing through the halls uncovered which apartment the eldest Malone dwelled in. It was no surprise Tristan slept in the bedroom at the end of the hall on our floor. Or at least he did on the nights he actually came home.

I had a two-hour break before my next class, and instead of working on my paper in my room or the library, I hauled my laptop downstairs to the communal sitting room. If Tristan left or came in, I would notice.

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