Chapter Nine #2
The moment is a short one before I slide my mask back in place; as always, duty calls.
My phone buzzes inside my pants, and I try not to pay it any mind.
Instead, I walk towards the IT room. Picking up my pace, trying to avoid the places any of the guys might be.
It’s not a secret mission; I just don’t feel like explaining.
I need to know who’s behind the blogs. Do my actual job, if I want to help out my friends, and even myself.
My mind swims with possibilities, especially in a place that hates the elites and the system that maintains this abusive cycle.
Which brings me to my other conclusion: there’s only one way you will be able to get the inside scoop in a place like this.
That means the person behind The Pulse is someone who’s close enough to expose the rot.
Someone with a bone to pick, and I need to find out why…
It takes me about five minutes to get from one side of the campus to my destination, pushing the door open to the building and stepping inside.
The warm air blasting through the vents is a welcome reprieve as I head down the hall, stopping only when I am in front of the wooden door with the large red screen that reads. “Keep Out.”
As if that could deter me. If anything, it does the opposite.
I enjoy fucking with people. What can I say?
Maybe Zayden is right—I’m spoiled. Wasting no time, I pull out my keys and grab the multi-tool hanging on the ring.
Amazing tools that always come in handy.
I wrap a hand around the knob and slide the pick into place, and pick the door, already knowing the guy I’m looking for is too deep in his shit and has zero awareness of his surroundings.
It takes about three seconds before I press the spot that unlocks the door, with a grin on my face.
When I barge inside, I loudly greet the man who sits behind the screen. “Teddy, my man.”
Ted pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, not bothering to look my way.
His finger clicks furiously as his free hand continues to type away.
The small clicks create a symphony of sounds, and I find myself enjoying it.
But I’m here for business, so I do what I always do and get right to it, and all it takes is the invasion of his space, casting a shadow over him.
“Didn’t know knocking wasn’t a thing anymore.” His voice is laced with annoyance, and frankly, I don’t care. “And stop calling me Teddy, we are not friends. Only acquaintances."
“All semantics to me,” I retort before plopping on the couch in front of him, resting my legs on his desk and crossing them, causing his gaze to drift from the monitor to me, finally getting his attention.
“Rich and no manners, tracks. What can I do for you, Safra?”
I lean back into the uncomfortable couch, feeling the wooden frame press into my back.
The smell of sweat and takeout lingers in the air.
The fabric is crusty against my skin, and just like that, I regret making myself so uncomfortable.
We already know the person behind the blog is in the school, now it’s just finding out who.
“Find out who’s behind the blog.”
He snorts, pushing his glasses again as he clicks loudly on his mouse. “We tried that.”
“Well, try harder.”
“Try harder?” Ted echoes, stopping his aggressive clicking before looking up at me. “What’s in it for me this time?”
I smile and raise my hand in the air, extending all five of my ringed fingers. I like the different bands that adorn them. You know the little things; mine just happens to be designing my avatar. It’s not like I can make any real-life choices; this is the best I get, and I make the most of it.
“Five minutes in heaven with any girl of the Kappa Delta you want.”
His thin lips curl into a grin, exposing his gummy smile. “Five minutes?”
“Ten and my yacht.”
Ted chuckles, “You got yourself a deal.”
It’s always easy to do business with Teddy here; his family is involved in big tech, and so is he. For him, social interaction isn’t worth it; his life is here. Cold and detached. There are more loud clicks before he finally looks at me. “Where do you want to start?”
I lean back, the back of my head resting on my folded arm, as I gaze at the beige ceiling as if it could give me any real answer. Only to go with my intuition, following the hunch inside my chest. “The girls and I mean all of them.”
“All of them?” he echoes, which I nod to before lifting my gaze to him. “Why the girls?”
I shrug. “It has to be a petal. Someone close to either the team or the sorority. Someone with a grudge.”
“That could be a lot of people, not just the girls. That’s sorta sexist,” he retorts, continuing his aggressive clicking.
“Well, I guess you have a lot of work on your hands,” I reply coyly, dropping my legs from his desk and sitting upright to swipe the dust particles that settled on my tailored uniform. “There’s something else I need you to do for me, too.”
“That is?”
“To hack into some phones,” I reply smoothly, filling him in on what I need him to do.
Ted hesitates at first, but it's nothing, the right price and promises of a fun night of pussy couldn’t fix.
After thirty minutes of negotiation and breakdown of instructions, I’m on my way to my next class, which I’m already running late for. Then my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I pull out the device, and my heart drops when I see a picture of Ezra with Peter.
Anonymous: How much do you trust him?
Nowadays, who knows, but I don’t type that.
I keep that to myself even if the question gnaws at my brain.
Doubt pollutes every memory of my best friend.
When did he stop being the Ezra I remember, the one who wasn’t like them?
And what has he been up to with Peter? My jaw clenches, and I decide that class can wait. I have other pressing matters.
“Yo, T, “ Wyatt shouts from somewhere behind me. I spin around, using my grand comical gesture… just the man I want to see. He tussles his onyx curls, and I feel his attention drift to somewhere behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I catch the long black hair, the goth accessorized hottie that has claimed Wyatt’s heart.
Michaela Santores.
My gaze moves back to Wyatt, who looks tortured, watching as she walks past him as if he’s nothing but a stranger.
He looks like his entire world collapsed with that cold shoulder, even though he tries to hide it.
Curiosity has me tracking their movements.
Watching the way they pretend like the other doesn’t exist. And still, you can feed off the electricity that crackles in the air with their proximity.
It makes me wonder what truly happened between them, but he never talks about it—a secret he will more than likely take to the grave.
Whatever it is, it is enough for her not to stand the sight of him or anyone else.
“You good?” I ask, arching a brow, nodding towards the girl walking toward the tech building. Wyatt shrugs, sliding his Ray-Bans on his face to shield himself from the sun that isn’t there. Poker face, locked in place, though his jaw is clenched so tight even my molars ache. “Never been better.”
I don’t question his lie, I only fallback, allowing him to set the pace.
Giving the tech building one final glance, before we begin to walk without any real destination, with silence stretching between us, only to be interrupted by the hoarse and guttural, ‘urrah,’ call from the Northern Gannet overhead.
“Did you get a message from Peter?” I finally ask, and he responds with a quick nod.
“You think he knows about his fiancée’s escapade?”
Hearing that word makes me grimace at the thought that my childhood friend will end up with someone like Peter.
It eats me alive inside knowing there's not much I can do to stop her from sneaking off with Nico. And knowing what it means for him, I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to hide the emotions that swirl in my chest. The throbbing cut on my lips reminds me of my earlier tussle with Nico, and despite myself, a lopsided smirk tugs at my mouth. He’s a stubborn asshole, but one with a heart so pure it’s hard not to admire.
“I’m sure he does. We have to find out who’s behind the blogs,” I respond with an unusual sense of pride swelling in my core.
My fingers trace over the split skin, and though I wince, the sting settles deeper—like the truth sinking into my bones.
I’m not as powerless as he is, and if he’s giving it his all… so should I.
Wyatt yawns, pulling me out of my head.
“Why does it matter?” he drawls, stopping mid-way to just stare at me.
Something about the way he looks at me makes it feel more like a plea to let it be.
Not even the dark shades resting over his eyes can hide the emotions behind his eyes.
Or the small shake in his voice, when he says, “It’s just fucking gossip. ”
“Gossip that can get Nico killed, asshat.”
He stops, hand landing on my shoulder, halting my step when I try to walk away. “It’s your job to keep him in his place.”
“Try telling two people who are in love to stay away from each other.” I pull away from his grasp and continue to walk.
“Class is this way,” he calls out, but I don’t bother to respond; I just motion towards the dorms. I’m so sick of pretending, so sick of acting like everything is perfect.
All while I’m drowning inside. I need to clear my head.
Settle the unease that gnaws at me. My own mind is the place I loathe to be; the problems just keep piling up on me.
We both stop dead in our tracks.
A banner hangs across the grey dorms, students swarming beneath like flies settling on a hot pile of shit.
They gossip while taking selfies and posting them online.
It’s not the gathering or the banner that has me swallowing what feels like glass shards, but the words written in bold red letters: ‘Reward for any information regarding Asher Santorelli.’
As expected, my phone buzzes in my hand, and so does every phone near me.
There’s no hiding the look of shock on my face, and no mask capable of concealing my dread.
I can feel the color slowly draining from my face, taking with it the warmth in my veins.
From the corner of my eye, I spot Zayden, who stands beside Nico as they look at the large banner that hangs over our dorm.
So many fucking problems, all with very few solutions.
All I can cling to is the relief that splashes over me, like cold water on a sunny day, at the sight of him.