Page 40 of Until Presley

“Let me see it,” she says, and I flip my phone around to show her.

“That’s good. Whoever is messing with you wanted her not to doubt it. I’d believe it.”

“Look here.” I point out where the image has been altered. “That was Presley sitting on my lap. They removed the background and changed it. Then they added someone else to it.”

“But, honey, you have to understand that she’s been stressed out because of her father and school, not to mention the serial killer.” Mom shakes her head. “Then there is also something about her sister I haven’t been able to put my finger on.”

“I think her bully was her stepsister,” I say and slouch back into the sofa. Part of me wants to run to her, but I know she needs to figure it out on her own.

My phone buzzes with an alert from the driveway camera. I open the app and answer. When they announce who they are, I come up off the sofa and rush out the door, meeting them at the gate.

“Hello, sir, we were hired to collect the boxes and belongings for Ms. Blanchard,” the mover says, and I’m pissed. She’s not even going to let the dust settle.

I dial her number, but it goes straight to voicemail. When I text, I notice that it doesn’t show as being delivered. She fucking blocked my number.

“Leave,” I order the man. “If she wants her stuff, she’ll face me.”

This should get her to call me back. I head back inside and resume my spot on the sofa, not wanting to go upstairs again. When I went up there after my mother called, every trace of her was gone except her scent on my sheets and pillows.

I’m not giving up on us.

Idon’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, but when Walker sits down in the chair next to me, I look over at him.

“Brother, this isn’t how you get her back.”

“What am I supposed to do?” I throw my hands up. “I can’t go to her. We have this dive we have to do. She told me to give her time.”

“You can go. Otto and I got the dive. Go get your girl.”

“I’ll leave tomorrow after I go to Winslow’s. It’s his birthday.”

“Okay, keep me posted. If you need help, I’ll be there. Just don’t get yourself arrested.”

“Why would I get arrested?”

I sit up, and he leans forward, handing me his phone. There, on social media for all to see, is my girl in her bikini glory, blowing a kiss. It was a picture she sent to me, and I’m pissed because it was something special between us. And now, it’s posted for all to see.

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

PRESLEY

As I make my way across campus, I’m beside myself as people point and stare. I can’t believe this is happening to me. My first week of classes were awful. Clara is in the class I’m teaching. I had to tell Professor Blackman that I’d need a TA to grade the class, or at least her papers, to avoid any conflicts of interest. Since then, she’s doubled down on her efforts to embarrass me. I know it’s her. The latest act is a picture meant for just Ham and me that she posted on the school’s social feeds. It got taken down, but then it showed up on several other social media platforms.

It got me thinking, and I examined the image of Ham. I now realize my mistake. When I couldn’t find my phone at Thanksgiving, she must have gotten into it. She somehow figured out my password and accessed my photos. It scares me because I don’t know what else she stole from my phone. I need to figure this out. It’s time I stood up to her.

My class sucked today. The students whispered behind my back, passing yet another photo of me around. As I weave through the buildings, heading toward my car, my arm isgrabbed, and I’m yanked into an alcove. I scream, but it’s cut off when the person slaps me hard. Pain bursts across my face, and I feel blood dripping from my lip.

“Listen here, Elvis. I won’t have you failing me.” Clara holds up her paper, and I see the bright red “D” marked on it.

I hold my cheek. I can’t stop the tears from rolling down my face. “I didn’t grade it.”

“You’re the fucking teacher. Pass me, or I’ll really make you sorry. I have more pictures, and I know how to find Ham. I can really fuck with you more than I already have.”

It all makes sense now. It was all her. I’m here in Miami, miserable because of Clara. I should have trusted Ham.

“You did it. You broke us up.” It’s not a question, because I know.

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