Page 16 of Undeniably Enemies

The guy works his magic while Tinsley, Stone, and I wander around the store, and she sings. Thankfully we’re the onlypeople in here. Otherwise, I have no doubt that it would be all over TikTok. Twenty minutes later, I’m handed a pretty new phone that magically looks just like my old one.

I thank the guy and pay for my phone, and as we’re walking out into the cool, dark, Boston night, Tinsley leans into me and whispers, “The guy was right. You have to go through it and delete old stuff. Not just so you have more storage on there. I didn’t want to say anything while we were in there, but it’s so important. It’s how my old manager-turned-stalker still had access to me. I didn’t even realize it.”

I wince. I often wondered if my ex had access to my phone. A lot of the things he did suggested he was reading texts and things, but I don’t know.

“Vander wiped my stuff, and I bet he’d do the same for you.”

“I don’t want Vander to go through my stuff. I’m not a famous pop star, just a lowly med student.”

“You’re a Fritz princess, Wren, and you need to wipe your phone.” Tinsley gives me a meaningful look. Stone doesn’t know about my ex, but Tinsley certainly does, and she’s not having my bullshit.

“She’s right,” Stone agrees. “Just tonight at dinner, people were taking pictures of us.”

“Because of Mason and Tinsley,” I protest.

“And us,” he states emphatically. “How many people have tried to get close to you or be your friend just because you’re a Fritz billionaire?”

I automatically frown before I can stop it. That was the story of my high school friendships and relationships. College wasn’t much better at first, even when I traveled three thousand miles away to escape the Fritz celebrity status that rules Boston. It’s partially why I waited so long to lose my virginity. I nearly laugh at that when I think of who I gave it to. Jack may be an asshole, but he didn’t fuck me because I’m a Fritz and have atrust fund bigger than the GDP of many small countries, whereas others have tried doing just that.

Yet another reason why I’m single with no plans to change that.

“I’ll clean it up tonight,” I promise them.

And after I say goodbye and get myself home, I start to do just that. I delete about fifty old apps, cancel three subscription services I don’t remember signing up for, clean up thousands of pictures and set up a cloud storage for the ones I kept, and dig through my contacts. I can’t help but laugh at some of the old texts and things on here from college and even back to high school, but they have to go.

I get rid of the ones I don’t need, and while doing that, I find three people with numbers I don’t recognize. They’re not saved contacts, but for whatever reason, I texted with them.

The first one, it seems we exchanged hi’s, but that’s it, and it was seven years ago. I saved it, though, and I can’t remember why. The second had texted me, “Hey, baby.” That was three years ago, and I think I might remember who this one is, so…delete. The third is also a “hi” person, so I text both one and three back hi. I could probably just delete them, but I saved them, and that was likely for a reason.

Neither one nor three responds, and I shower and get myself ready for the next day. It’s just before bedtime that my phone pings with a response from number one.

Unknown number: Hi.

6

I’m just dozing off when my phone pings with a text. As sad as it sounds, I don’t get a lot of late-night texts, and after the day I had with Wren and then packing up the tiny studio I’ve suffered through for the last year to finally move into a larger apartment, I’m wrecked. Still, I roll over and snatch my phone off my nightstand, only to immediately frown.

Wren: Hi.

That’s it. That’s all the text says on my screen. What in the fuck?

My eyebrows scrunch together in total confusion. Why is she texting me? It’s the second time we’ve ever texted, and the last time was… seven years ago, and it was just a series of hi’s then too. If memory serves, Owen wanted me to have her number in my phone for some reason when she went off to college, so he gave it to me. I texted her hi, and she texted me back the same. That was it.

So why is she texting me now?

I set my phone down and roll over, deciding it’s a mistakeand I’m not going to respond. There’s no way she’d text me on purpose. But as minutes turn to an hour and I’m still awake, lying in bed and staring up at my ceiling, my curiosity takes over. With a disgruntled noise, I snatch my phone and pull it over my face. Maybe she’s apologizing for being late, or maybe she’s calling out for tomorrow.

Me: Hi.

The three dots immediately start to dance in the message window, only to disappear. Then reappear.

Wren: Who is this?

A laugh bursts from my lungs.

Me: Very funny.

Wren: I’m serious. Who are you?

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