Page 69 of Drilled (Dad Bod Contracting 2)
“Betrayed.”
“I didn’t freeze. Oh no, not me.” I let out a breath. “I left the men’s room, went to the ladies’, did my thing, and went back out to the guys—all of whom were somewhat anxiously watching for my reaction. I kept my shit together and acted like nothing was wrong. I hung around for a second, and then went to find my girls. I hid at the bar in the center of my group and kept watch. Sure enough, a few minutes later Jared comes out grinning like a fool, buckling his jeans, and this dumb little cheerleader bitch follows him out, wiping her mouth and hanging on him like he’s Jesus. I mean, you should’ve seen the fawning look in her eyes. You’d think he was Justin Timberlake or something, the way she gazed adoringly at him.”
“Yuck.”
“Yeah. And he was…god, he was gloating. High-fiving his buddies, laughing, making rude gestures as he obviously detailed the blowjob he’d just gotten from Misty the cheerleader, or whatever her name was.”
Franco snorts. “Damn, girl—you’re still fired up about this.”
I glare. “Yeah, I guess I am. So what?”
He holds up his hands, palms out. “So nothing. It’s a long time ago, is all.”
“And you’re not still pissed at Maria for what she did?”
He sighs. “No, I guess I am.”
“Exactly.” I unroll and reroll the sleeve of my borrowed shirt. “I left, and started plotting my revenge.”
“Oh dear.” He sighs. “You didn’t confront him there then?”
“Oh, hell no. I had bigger plans. I started following him. I was good at it too—he never knew I was there. I could’ve been a CIA agent, the way I tailed him. I took photographs like a private investigator and, bit by bit, I realized that he’d been playing me—elaborately, I might add—the whole time. It wasn’t just one girl sucking him off in the bathroom of a campus bar. It was Shelley the med school major, in her dorm, after chemistry class on Mondays, and Abby the journalism student and marching band drum major on Tuesdays between European lit and Business Accounting. Wednesday was Rebecca, early in the morning, before his first class, and she was the most unlikely of his side pieces—she was a goth when goths were long-since passé, and he was literally everything she seemed to rail against. Thursday was Janelle late at night after he left my place; she was a drama nerd, library science major, and secret slut, apparently.”
“Secret slut?” he asks, laughing.
“Oh man. In the process of all this, I discovered a lot of stuff about a lot of people. I was only stalking Jared, but I found out things about others just by accident. Such as that Janelle, who had this persona of nerdy innocence, complete with cat-eye glasses and sweaters and pleated skirts, and never swore or had boyfriends, was actually more active than I’d been before Jared. She had more guys than Jared did girls! She was just super tactful and quiet about it, and as organized as you’d imagine a library science major would be.” I wave a hand. “Whatever. She was actually really cool, and we were friends for a while after college, until she moved to D.C. to work at the Library of Congress.
“Anyway. Where was I? Friday—Friday was Brit, bubbly, sprightly, giggly sorority girl majoring in sugar babying and high-end escorting. True story, actually—that’s what she was, Jared was just her for-fun go-to. They met after lunch in her dorm. And all this was just his regular rotation girls. There were countless more random hookups, usually at night, at that bar.”
Franco’s eyebrows are raised. “Busy guy, Jesus. He must have had the stamina of a goddamn racehorse to keep up with that schedule.”
I make a disgusted face. “I guess so, because he was with me regularly on top of all that.” I shudder.
“How long did you stalk him?”
“It wasn’t actually stalking, it was…revenge-driven research,” I say, archly. “And for about three weeks. Until I had sufficient evidence collected. In the meantime, I pretended to be suffering from a long-term bout of the stomach bug, and buried in schoolwork, just so I didn’t have to let him touch me.”
“That was going to be my next question.”
“Yeah, no—I never touched him again, sexually, after the day I caught him in the bathroom.”
“So, what did you do with that research?”
I sigh. “I had a good friend who worked for the school newspaper.”
“Uh-oh.”
I nod. “Yeah. I got her to help me put the photographs into a spread, complete with a timeline of his activities. I didn’t have anything against any of the girls, so I blurred their faces out, and used fake names, although anyone who knew them would know who it was. And then we published it as a front-page exclusive.”
Franco rubs his jaw. “Let me guess—it backfired.”
