Page 43 of Revenge Puck

The video? Oh, right. “Because I didn’t want anyone saying shit about you anymore.”

“Well, you don’t need to swoop in and save the day. I can handle the negative comments.”

“Can you? Because you were upset last night and earlier today about them.”

“I’m trying to just ignore them from now on,” she says before she finally walks inside.

After giving my name to the hostess, she leads us right to a table for two against the wall thankfully, and not by the windows facing the street.

As soon as we get seated, I ask Elle, “Do you need me to go through and delete the bad ones?”

Pulling the device from the purse on her shoulder, she unlocks the screen, then hands it over. “Sure, you can do that while I run to the restroom.”

Elle’s barely out of view when I start scrolling.

There are significantly fewer negative comments on her personal account, but I quickly delete the ones that are there before checking the salon page, then her messages.

Not all that surprising. Most DMs are men hitting her up, but a few are women calling her names or telling her she’s crazy for “cheating” on Riley. Those are deleted and blocked.

Then, I come upon the message thread between Elle and Riley.

Shit.

I didn’t mean to open the log; it just sort of happens. Curiosity gets the best of me. Even after I tell my eyes to stop reading or I’ll gouge them out, but they don’t obey me.

The first message was from Elle reaching out to Riley saying,I thought you were lying about being Christian Riley, so I looked you up. Then she asks him to tag the salon if he posts a selfie with his new haircut. He agrees, and offers totell his teammates about her salon, to send her more business, which he, of course, did.

It was actually decent of him, and it explains all those photos of hockey players I flipped out about earlier. It was none of my business, but now I’m certain that Elle didn’t hook up with any of those guys. I shouldn’t have assumed the worst.

Not that her having sex with other men is a bad thing. She’s a grown woman who can do whoever she wants.

I just wish I could make it onto the list of men Elle invites to her bed, even if I know I shouldn’t.

I’m incredibly relieved that there aren’t any dirty photos being passed between Elle and Riley. Stressed or not, seeing any part of that asshole would’ve ruined my appetite.

13

Elle

Vivace, the restaurant Preston picked tonight, is one that Audrey and I have walked past plenty of times and looked at with longing. Despite how good the ratings are, neither of us can afford to pay hundreds of dollars for a meal while running our own business.

It’s the type of place men save up for to bring their wives on Valentine’s Day or take their sweetheart to propose. A night, a meal to remember. Not the kind of place a guy wastes money on for a fake girlfriend he just met.

Even though I feel completely out of place, I leave the restroom to make my way back to the table.

My phone is sitting innocently beside the silverware on my side when I take a seat.

I guess Preston made quick work of deleting messages, and hopefully didn’t respond to any of the trolls.

I’m about to ask him when he blurts out, “I fucked up again.”

“Oh?” I ask in confusion, glancing around to see several patrons now watching us, but thankfully not snapping photos.

“I read your DMs.”

“There were some mean messages, but it’s fine,” I assure him.

“No, Elle, I mean, I read the ones between you and Riley.”

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