Page 84 of Imogen

Someone had been watching me.

They took pictures of us.

And I feel sick to my stomach because there’s only one person it could be.

“One, I love being fucking right. And two, who the fuck sent you that picture? I swear, if Ben put someone up to this, I will fucking kill him.”

“You love his mum’s food too much,” I remind her. “And she doesn’t ban you for eating so much.”

“I’ll make it look like an accident,” she grumbles.

Hope slowly passes me the phone. “I don’t think it was Ben,” she states before meeting my gaze. “And I don’t think you do either.”

I shake my head. “No, I think this was Zach. He came to see me last week, begging me to go back to him because he’s lost everything. It turned heated and…”

“He fucking hit you,” Hayden growls. “Are you fucking serious? I fucking asked you outright and you lied to my fucking face.”

Hope snorts. “You knew she was lying so don’t act like this is new,” she remarks, then meets my gaze. “She called me asking if I knew anything.”

“He said it wasn’t over, that he’s not done. I think this is him. This can’t get out.”

Hayden grabs my phone again, tilting her head. “It’s not revealing anything and you can’t really tell who it is fucking you. It looks more like a cover for a romance novel.”

“Hayden, I don’t want anyone to see this. I don’t care how modest it is.”

“Then we mess with him.”

“And push him to release the picture?” I question. “I’m not pissing him off so he retaliates.”

“He’s doing that anyway,” she argues. “He can’t play with fire and not expect to get burned. He needs to learn his lesson because look what we’ve done already and that wasn’t us even trying.”

I glance at Hope, who shrugs. “I’m with Hayden on this one. It’s bad enough he fucking hit you. He can’t expect you to sit around and wait for the next email.”

“Do you know his passwords?” Hayden asks as she grabs her laptop.

“For what? He’s probably changed everything.”

“He might use the same one for the new email address he’s using. Then we can try his iCloud.”

I write them down on a piece of paper and hand them over to her. Hope looks up from her phone. “He’s at the Tavern.”

“I don’t understand what you want me to do with that information,” I admit, but then a thought occurs to me. “I have an idea that could work without revealing that we know it was him who sent the picture.”

“I’m listening,” Hope replies.

I turn to Hayden. “Did you get in?”

“Yes. This fucking guy is so predictable,” she mutters, typing away. “He only has that one email on there, though. It’s the one he sent to you. And I hate to tell you this, but it’s a screenshot, which means he probably has a recording.”

Which is what I was afraid of.

“Log on to his main email account,” I order. “Then subscribe to every weird mailing list you can find.”

Hope watches me take her laptop off the coffee table. “What are you doing?”

“Logging into his Facebook account and liking every weird fetish page I can find,” I reveal.

Hayden’s eyes widen. “Why have I never thought of doing this before? I should have been doing this to my exes. I mean, it’s genius. Most girls go in strong and write a status. They get locked out of his account. But this way, we can play the long game and keep fucking with him.”

---