Page 265 of Filthy Elites

Her story is the first one displayed at the top of the screen, so out of curiosity, I click it.

To my surprise, it’s an extremely flattering picture of me under the shade tree at school today, my beautiful waterfall braid in peak condition since she had just styled it. The caption reads, “She’s so pretty omg” with the hashtag #hairgoals.

The whole hair goals thing is obviously bullshit because Hannah has long, gorgeous curls women would literally kill for, but I know what she’s doing. Putting this positive post and picture of me out there to combat all the mean ones Anae and her squad shared today.

My chest feels all funny. Kinda tight and… heartburny.

I’m caught completely off guard when I see a text from Dare flash across the top of my screen.

I tap it before it has time to disappear.

His text reads, “Should I be jealous?”

My brow furrows faintly. “Jealous?” I type back, unsure what he means.

“I’ve heard some ranting tonight about Anae’s sister being in love with you. I figured it was just Anae being dramatic, but I want to make sure I don’t need to get involved.”

Involved?

“Why would that necessitate your involvement anyway?”

“I’m a territorial man,” he states.

My tummy sinks. I don’t even know what to say to that, so it takes a moment before I get up the courage to ask, “And what territory are you policing, exactly?”

“You know what territory I’m policing,” he answers.

My palms feel sticky. I hold my phone, my heart beating a little too hard as I consider what to say to that.

“Hannah’s just a friend,” I text back, feeling ridiculous even having to say it.

“You sure?”

“Pretty sure. She also seems super sweet, so you stay away from her,” I add with a winky face so he doesn’t take my demand too seriously—while also taking it to heart because he doesn’t need to go anywhere near Hannah Dupont.

“Are you saying I’m not super sweet?” he teases.

“I mean, I think you are, but opinions seem to vary.”

“What does Hannah think?”

That question makes me uneasy.

It’s almost like he knows I asked her about him, but… he couldn’t possibly know that.

“How should I know?” I ask evasively, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling that I’m not being entirely honest with him.

“You know what I realized?” he asks.

“What?” I ask, an aching pit in my gut that I don’t understand.

“Miss Hannah Dupont has one more picture of you in her phone than I have in mine.”

He’s not actually jealous of Hannah, right?

That would be crazy.

I’m sure he’s only joking, but I can’t shake the unease that he might not be, too. I don’t actually know him that well, after all. I’ve never heard he’s a jealous lunatic, but...

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