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“Anyway,” Finn continues, and I realized I’ve missed whatever he was saying. What was he insinuating about Sawyer and I? Did Sawyer tell him he’s pursuing me? I guess that makes sense. Finn clearly told Sawyer about my unrequited crush and ensuing shenanigans, of course Sawyer would tell his brother.
“Did you stop by for something?” Finn asks, pushing himself off the desk and checking his watch. “I’ve got a class in ten minutes.”
“No, I didn’t need anything. I was just in the area and wanted to say hi.” I pause. “And apologize.” I stop and take a breath. “For being a general pain in your ass.”
He just nods in response as he slings an arm around my shoulder and walks me to the door. “You’ve always been unpredictably entertaining,” he deadpans.
I laugh as I leave his office and head back outside. I make it to the end of the hall before my phone vibrates again and I remember all the notifications. I make it a few more steps before I have to stop walking and focus on my phone, because what I’m seeing isn’t making sense. A voicemail from Eric and a corresponding text simply stating, CALL ME. A missed call from Sophie and a text stating, Confused? And from Chloe, a Facebook message—Players gonna play, schemers gonna scheme—followed by a bunch of emoticons that are smiling so hard they’re crying.
I hit the notification tab and scroll back a few hours. All the usual. Likes, comments, friend requests. Wait. Most of the likes and comments seem to be on… my relationship status? I never use that feature. Like, ever. I click on one of the notifications, taking me to the post.
Everly Jensen is in a relationship with Sawyer Camden.
Hold on. Hold. The fuck. On.
I’m not even friends with him. I’d know. I’m not one of those girls who just adds anyone. I always look first, and I have most definitely not added him.
Except it appears that I did. The update on my wall prior to my newfound relationship status is:
Everly Jensen and Sawyer Camden are friends.
The time stamp: two hours ago. Two hours ago, when I was in class, with no internet.
That son of a bitch hacked me.
“Who does that?” I’m fuming. “Who breaks into someone’s Facebook account and updates their relationship status?”
I’m on the phone with Chloe. My tirade is met with silence, then tears. You know, the kind of tears you get when you’re laughing so hard you cry? Those. She gasps for breath while I wait.
“Chloe, this is serious.”
“You’re right, you’re right.” She blows out a breath while trying to compose herself. “Seriously”—she clears her throat—“it is pretty bad. Not, say, physical breaking and entering bad, but close, right?”
I gasp. “Oh, nooooo, you did not just say that!”
“I did!” She’s back to laughing and I hear a thump. I’m pretty sure she just laughed herself off her bed. I’ve reached the front doors of Hymer and I push through them, anxious to keep moving, even though I’ve no idea where my destination is. “It’s not as bad as, say, making a fake dating profile for your friend and sending them on a date without telling them,” she deadpans, then breaks into a fit of giggles.
I’m never gonna live that one down, so I roll my eyes even though she’s not there to see it and then jog down the steps outside the building.
“I’ve got to go, Chloe, I’ll call you later.” I shouldn’t have called her. It was a total violation of the first rule of proper complaining. Pick the right audience for your complaint.
“Sawyer Camden is officially my new favorite person! I hope you’re very happy together!” she says in a singsong before I can hang up.