SEXT

But my mind is already racing. I think about the coffee shop where we ate our first meal together, what feels like a lifetime ago already, even though it’s only been a few days. I know it’s a long shot, but he did say it’s one of his favorite spots in the area. Maybe that’s where he’d go now.

I speed-walk the few blocks there, heart in my throat. All the while, I can feel my phone buzzing in my pocket, every few minutes another text or phone call. Some of the callers have started leaving voicemails, which I don’t even want to listen to. I delete them all unread, and wonder how hard it will be to program my phone to send all these new incoming calls straight to voicemail in the future. Will I have to change my number? Can I block this many phone numbers?

Zayne couldn’t have done this to me. He wouldn’t. But maybe he’ll have some idea how to help fix it. Or at least some advice on what could’ve gone wrong. Did his phone get stolen? Did someone break into it?

I reach the café and steal a peek through the windows. Sure enough, there he is at the back table, the same one we shared last Friday when he was trying to cheer me up after my especially shitty day at work. He doesn’t see me yet—he’s still eating, his eyes fixed on the seat across from him, half-glazed, as though deep in thought. I wonder what about. I wonder if he knows how horribly my life has blown up since I left him this morning.

I wonder if he had something to do with it.

I steel my heart. Push through the doors into the restaurant.

He glances up when the bell jingles, and his eyes light up at the sight of me, a smile spreading across his face. He half-rises from his chair by the time I make it to his table, but I pull out the other seat before he can reach me and drop into it, bypassing a hug. I can’t get distracted, and I know I will if I let him touch me. I need to talk about this with a clear head, to get straight answers.

“What’s wrong?” Zayne asks, after taking one look at my expression. I can’t imagine what I look like right now. Murderous? Scared? On the brink of tears?

I feel like all three at once.

In response, I pull out my phone. I tap on the screen and open the website and I pass it to him without a word. My throat aches, and my eyes sting. Something about this feels worse than knowing my office saw the photo. Zayne was the intended recipient of this picture, so why does it bother me for him to see it again?

That’s not it, I realize. What bothers me is the caption, the comments under it. The talking-to my boss gave me earlier today. The way the whole world is judging me for sending a semi-nude selfie to a guy I cared about. Care about. Or was starting to care about, anyway.

I shake my head, and clear my throat, because Zayne still hasn’t said anything. “Well?” I ask.

He finally lifts his head, eyes wide. “Clove…”

“I only sent that photo to one person,” I say, my voice getting louder, heated. “My phone has been with me ever since. I really don’t see how else anyone could’ve found that photo, unless…” My throat closes up. I can’t finish that sentence.

He doesn’t make me. His eyes meet mine, serious and heavy. “Unless I sent it to them.”

I swallow around the lump that’s forming. “Did you?”

“Clove…”

I close my eyes. I can’t watch him. Can’t make eye contact, not if he’s about to tell me that he just fucked over my entire life, all for some sick revenge porn scheme.

His hand closes around mine, and I flinch involuntarily, because that touch still floods me with desire, a heat that’s impossible to ignore.

“I would never, ever do something like that to you. Or to anyone, really. But especially not you.”

I open my eyes. Find him staring straight at me, his expression still as deadly serious as ever. I nod, and blink hard as my eyes sting once more, threatening tears again. “But…”

He shakes his head, squeezes my fingers tighter. “We’re going to fix this, Clove.”

“How?” The tears threaten to sting at my eyes again. “My company is already trying to track down this person. Whoever did this, they were smart. Really smart. They covered their tracks, and if a professional in the industry can’t find them, there’s no way we can.”

“Sure we can.” His eyes go hard and distant, focused on the window outside instead of me now. “Because I know who it is.”

I tug at my hand, freeing my fingers from his, startled by the sudden fierce anger in his eyes. “What do you mean?”