29. VANESSA
VANESSA
A phone rings somewhere in the distance, waking me before I’m ready. I don’t move from my current position, though. I’m too comfortable, resting my head against Paris’s warm chest. His arm tightens around my shoulder.
“Who’s calling at this ungodly hour?” he grumbles.
“It’s not my phone.”
“I know. That’s my father’s ringtone.”
The shrill stops finally, but the damage is done. I’m awake, but so is Paris—all of him. I run my fingers down his abs until I reach the tip of his erection.
“Since we’re up…” I say before I slide down his body.
“Hmm, that’s a much better way to wake up.”
Unfortunately, I don’t make it to my destination before his phone rings again. It’s a different ringtone this time, meaning someone else is calling him. That’s never a good sign in my book, and considering everything that’s happening in our lives, we can’t ignore it.
I prop myself up. “Maybe you should answer it.”
He spares a couple seconds staring at me before he sighs, “You’re right.” His brows furrow when he sees the number. “It’s Danny.” He puts the call on speaker. “Hey, man. Why are you calling so early?”
“I take it you haven’t seen it yet.”
“Seen what?” He sits up fast, his entire body tense, as if he’s bracing for a storm.
“Lydia posted a video last night on TikTok. It’s bad, bro. You need to watch it.”
“It’s rubbish,” Sadie pipes up in the background. “Anyone with a brain could tell her tears were fake.”
Shit. I knew that snake wouldn’t leave things alone. I grab my phone and open the app. “What’s her account handle?”
A second later, I receive a text from Sadie with the link.
Paris and I watch it on my phone together while he keeps Danny on the line.
Honestly, I think he forgot he was on a call.
The video is three minutes long, and she spends half the time talking about her mental health issues—aka, building sympathy—and the other half talking trash about Paris and blaming him for her relapse.
She ends the video saying she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to survive that betrayal.
“I can’t believe she’s done that after what you went through with Cory. She can’t be that evil, right?”
“She’s totally pulling a 13 Reasons Why move,” Sadie replies to my outburst.
Paris rests his head in his hands. “She might actually hurt herself.”
I throw my arm around his shoulders and pull him closer to me.
“Maybe. But you can’t let her make you feel guilty about her decisions.
The video she posted on TikTok was malicious, but it’s also a cry for help—and she needs a professional, not you.
She wants everyone to hate you, and that’s not the move of a stable person. ”
“I have to call my dad back.”
“Okay, man. Keep us posted,” Danny says before he ends the call.
I drop my arm from Paris’s shoulder and move to give him some space, but he reaches for my hand and stops me from going too far as he returns his father’s call.
“Hey, Dad.”
“I don’t know what happened, son, but you need to help us find Lydia.”
“What do you mean, find her?”
“She’s missing. Her parents just left our house after yelling at us for half an hour. They’re blaming you for her meltdown. Were you seriously cheating on her with that Castro girl?”
I bristle. Paris’s hold on my hand tightens.
“I never cheated on Lydia,” he grits out. “And stop calling Vanessa ‘that Castro girl.’ She’s my girlfriend, Dad, and I love her.”
My heart swells with emotion despite the shitty situation.
“Oh. Well, don’t tell your mother yet. She isn’t in any state to receive that news. Despite your current relationship situation, you must find Lydia. You need to salvage your reputation somehow.”
He swallows hard. “So that’s what this is all about. You’re concerned about my reputation.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to the girl, but you’re my son—my priority is to make sure you are okay. I don’t believe for a second you’re responsible for whatever’s going on with her. But I’ve read some of the comments people left on her video. They hate you, son.”
We purposedly avoided the comments, but I imagine they’re vile. I loathe people sometimes. Keyboard warriors and their digital pitchforks can rot in hell.
“How do they know she’s gone? Couldn’t she be avoiding their calls?”
“Maybe. But they’re worried. You know more about her habits than they do. Do you know where she could be?”
I watch Paris closely, hating how this conversation is affecting him. His face is pinched, and the hard set of his jaw tells me he’s wrestling with a guilt he shouldn’t feel.
“I’m not sure. I have to get my head on straight. I’ll call if I have news.”
“Okay, son. I’ll do the same if I hear anything.”
Paris ends the call. His shoulders sag, and he stares at his phone without moving. There’s a knot in my chest now. I don’t know how to help him, and I’m afraid anything I say will sound insincere or self-serving. I hate Lydia for what she’s doing to us, but I don’t want her to die.
“Do you have any idea where she would go?” I ask softly.
He turns to me, revealing bright, anguished eyes. “No. Isn’t that terrible? I dated her for years, and I don’t fucking know where she would go.”
The loud noise of a door banging shut prevents me from saying something that would only make things worse.
“Vanessa?” Heather calls out. “Are you decent?”
“Just a second.” I jump out of bed and get dressed quickly.
When Paris doesn’t make a move to at least put on his underwear, I toss his boxers at him. “Get dressed, unless you want to give Heather a peep show.”
He blinks fast, and then replies, “Uh, no to that.”
“I’m coming in,” Heather announces a second before she opens the door.
“What’s going on?” I ask, noticing she’s still wearing the same outfit as yesterday. She has clothes at Leo’s, so if she spent the night there, she’d have changed.
“What’s going on is that I was right to follow my instincts. You can thank me later.”
I lift my hands. “Thank you for what exactly?”
“I wasn’t happy with your attitude about not giving that snake some sort of punishment, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.”
“Oh my God, Heather. What did you do?” I ask, worried that she’s responsible for Lydia’s disappearance.
Paris is standing now, a giant who’s tenser than before.
Heather waves a hand dismissively. “Oh relax. I didn’t kill the bitch. I had a feeling she was going to pull one final stunt to destroy you and Paris, so I stalked her place and all her social media accounts. Then she posted that TikTok video.” She shakes her head. “Classic manipulator move.”
“Cut to the chase, Heather,” Paris butts in. “Do you know where she is?”
“Sure do.” She lifts her phone and presses play on the video already loaded on her screen.
A grainy but recognizable video of Lydia riding a mechanical bull at some bar plays for us as a crowd of drunks cheers her on.
“I followed her to a dive bar off-campus, can’t remember the name now. She was partying without a care in the world. I have more videos like this, including one where she’s making out with some random dude.”
“That just proves she didn’t harm herself, but people can argue she was acting out because she was depressed,” I say.
Heather smiles like a fiend. “I got close enough to capture part of her conversation. I got a confession, sis. She fully admitted to the dude she was with that she ruined her ex’s life.”
“Can I see that video?” Paris asks, his voice cold and tight.
She plays it for him. It’s only a snippet, but it does contain her confession.
Paris’s cheeks hollow as he watches it, and by then, his jaw is locked tight. “Thanks.” He returns Heather’s phone. “What are you planning to do with it?”
“It’s up to you. I have a TikTok video in my drafts, ready to go. Just say the word.”
His eyes narrow a fraction before he replies, “Load it up.”