Page 9 of Web of Lies
I make my way back to my room with a take-out container of sushi and rice. All prepped by five-star chefs in white hats. No wonder this school costs an arm and a leg to get into. They have gourmet foods. I make it back to my apartment and begin the lengthy process of setting my equipment up. I would need the weekend to get my computers and all my programs up and running and ready for surveillance. Because in a place full of sharks, I have to prepare myself for the worst. I don’t want to be like Magnolia and end up dead, but I sure as shit will find out who laid a finger on my best friend.
From: [email protected]
August 13th, 2020
Fucking hell, Kace, this place is amazing. Did you know this place has a hedge maze… a freaking maze? Why you ask? Because some crazy dude owned this land and built his house in the middle of it! Like what?? I walked by it earlier today with my student advisor. She took me exploring to get the lay of the land, so to speak, which was nice. This place is enormous and reminds me of a damn haunted house. I’ll send some pics of the castle towers they have. I can’t believe I live here now…and without you. It sucks not to have you here. But two years, girl, two freaking years, and then we’ll be at Parkford, and we’ll light this world on fire.
How have you been? How’s Latham without me? I’m sure it’s horrible, right?! LOL. I miss your sass and texting you. Crowe is determined to torture me… Who takes away a 16-year old’s cell phone? Apparently, he and my mom…. What an asshole! Good thing I need this laptop for school, or I wouldn’t be able to talk to you at all. Everything is still good here; we haven’t started classes yet… but I’m excited to start. I want to meet some new people. My student advisor… is… an interesting character, but she’s super sweet. She kind of reminds me of you… well…. just the blonde hair, I guess. She really bounces all over the place and says the weirdest things. Anyway, Piper is here to show me around again. Apparently, I didn’t see half of what I needed to see!
I love you, Kace! I’ll talk to you later.
Magnolia!
Me:
I finally got my computer setup. Sorry, I missed our angel date… the internet sucks here.
Tristan:
Missed you, boo. But at least I can kick your ass now.
Me:
I have to fix internet speed then start my surveillance. Play later?
Tristan:
When you become part of the FBI… are you going to look me up?
Me:
Snort. Of course. I’m surprised I haven’t already. For all I know you’re a 40-year-old dude in your mom’s basement. Better to be safe than sorry.
Tristan:
I just looked in the mirror. I can assure you I’m hotter than that. Maybe one day you’ll see??
Me:
One day……
Ismiledownatmy phone with happy butterflies fluttering through my stomach. Tristan has hinted on many occasions that we would meet one day. Each passing day that we talk, the closer our souls bend together, and the bond we share gets stronger and stronger. Can I live without knowing who he is for the rest of my life? Or will I bite the bullet and meet up with him to prove he is who he says he is? One day our two lives will collide, and we’ll meet.
The need to look at who I am talking to is getting stronger every day. I don’t trust him with my identity just yet. People think a lot of odd things when they hear who my father is and what he’s accomplished through writing and the big screen. They always have something to say:C.J Cole? The erotic writer, C.J. Cole? The man responsible for those erotic alien movies? Oh, his writing is amazing, and his movies—don’t get me started on those.They always go into gross details about what he writes, expecting me to agree with them. Then they ask for autographs on the sly, producing books from the depths of their grandma purses, begging me to take them home for him to sign.
Boys also think because my dad produces erotic fiction that I’m open for business to them. At my old school, everyone knew who my father was, and therefore, they thought saying the most disgustingly vile words to me was funny—super hilarious—not. Whether face-to-face or through text messages, I’ve had my fair share of harassment. No matter how many times I reported it to the school, it never got any better. So, over the years, I’ve learned to tune out their taunts, letting every horrible word roll off my shoulders like it was nothing to me. But you can only tune out so much before you have to build your walls higher and higher, protecting yourself from the mean kids.
So, people—mostly boys—get the wrong ideas about me. I’ve been down that messy road a few times. That long road of thinking someone had an interest in me, but it was for all the wrong reasons, with the worst intentions.
Never again. I can’t handle it.
The one time—one fling I had, ended on a sour note. But he was the exception to all my rules. He wanted more from me, an actual relationship, and I wasn’t ready for it. We were too young, too emotional, and not prepared for it. We fooled around a few times. Eli was my first real kiss with tongue, although I’ll always count Chase’s lip pecks all those years ago as my first genuine kiss. It meant something to us at the time, and I’ll never take that glory away from him. But Eli and I went so much further.
Eli was my first orgasm—that boy’s piano fingers were out of this world. I even went down on him a few times—it was okay. Eli was different, though. He truly cared about me and probably still does. I know there’s a soft spot in my heart for him wherever he is.
A heavy knock sounds from my door, rattling the artwork on the walls. The bright yellow flowers remind me of Magnolia—bright like her presence. The faintest hint of her giggle echoes throughout the room, forcing my eyes shut. Her presence calms me—grounds me to this place. These simple paintings are an echo of her, a fingerprint of her soul shining through the brushstrokes she spent weeks perfecting.
