Page 31 of The Swiping Game
“That’s strange,” I say out loud, grabbing his phone. It’s locked, so I can’t see what it says. I mean, I know my name isn’t uncommon, but you just don’t see it much these days.
Oh, I’m going to have to tease him about this. Maybe something along the lines of “You miss me so much outside the office that you went and found another one.” Yeah, that will be good.
The phone vibrates again, and I’m assuming it’s because he didn’t answer the first time. Seeing my name on his phone is just, well, it’s weird. Unsettling even.
I take a look around, even though I know I’m the only one outside of Neil’s office right now, and grab his phone. I know I shouldn’t do this, and I know it’s none of my business or if I can even read what it says, but I have to try and see. I’ll apologize later. But the curiosity is killing me right now.
I click on the message. It doesn’t open, but it does give me a preview of it.
Tara: You were right . . .
I hurry and grab my phone, because I swear those were the first words I typed. Sure as shit, they are.
Okay, now I’m just confused. And no, I shouldn’t break into someone’s phone, but desperate times call for desperate measures. If my crazy mind is right in the road it’s taking me down, somehow Dean is James. How that could even be? I know it can’t be, but at the same time, I need to know because I think it is.
My hands are shaking as I go to Dean’s lock screen. It asks for the four-digit code.
“Shit,” I say. How am I supposed to know that?
Except . . .
I know my lock is my birthday. And I’d bet fifty percent of the country would answer the same thing. I don’t know Dean’s birthday, but I know James’s.
Here goes nothing.
Zero . . .
Eight . . .
One . . .
Nine . . .
With ease, his phone opens, and it takes all I have not to throw it across the room.
“How?” I turn to look at him in Neil’s office.
I knew his voice sounded familiar, but I didn’t put it together. Has he known the whole time? Has this been one big game to him? Maybe picking on me in the office wasn’t enough for him anymore, so he had to go and stalk me on the internet.
Oh God. I told him everything about me. I told him about Brad, about my money issues, my shitty childhood. Then there was last night.
I think I’m going to be sick.
But I don’t run to the bathroom. In fact, I’m frozen still as Dean hurriedly stands up in Neil’s office and turns to look at me. At first, there’s fear written all over his face, but that only lasts for a second before it softens. I’d even say that if it was anyone but him, it would look like remorse or regret.
I’m sure it’s remorse for getting caught. Regret for not being able to keep the ruse up longer.
Funny, because I’m feeling regret too. Only, I’m regretting everything that’s happened over the past week.
