Enamor (Hearts of Stone #3) (11 page)

That leaves one other option and that, well, that's perfect. I didn't expect to be able to witness Julia's reaction to what I had planned for her this morning. I thought I'd wake up to her barging into my room, yelling, and demanding answers. But now I'll get to have a front row seat.
 

Barely bothering to pull on sweatpants, I head out to the kitchen, grab something to munch on as I wait, and settle down at the table. I eat slowly, my ears focusing on any noises coming from down the hall. Just a few minutes later, Julia's door creaks open. Past the frame of the archway, I catch sight of her as she walks into her bathroom with a towel in hand. Her hair's in disarray and she's dressed in her typical morning attire, a t-shirt and tiny, wrinkled pajama shorts.
 

She shuts the door behind her and the unmistakable sound of a lock clicking into place elicits a low chuckle from me. The last thing she has to worry about this morning is me walking in on her.

She surprised me with her creative antics last night. I always suspected she was gutsy, but I didn't realize she and I shared a similar sense of humor. The prank she played on me was something reminiscent of what I'd do to my own friends.
 

It was all so unexpected and, whether she meant to or not, she made me laugh more than I've laughed in a long time. The enjoyment I felt introduced me to a new type of distraction, a new possibility to get me through the next two months, until the date I've been dreading passes by and moves to be a year away again.
 

The shower cuts on and I enjoy images of her naked body in my mind's eye as I eat my meal. The grogginess of sleep lifts as I wait, replaced by the energy of anticipation. It takes a while, but when the sounds of water running cut off, I stop eating and look up.
 

A squeak of the curtain moving against the rod. Silence follows for a few minutes as I wait, patiently, resisting the urge to laugh. Finally, a shrill scream rips through the apartment.

Julia barges out of the bathroom, footsteps trampling the wooden floors. First, she storms past the kitchen entrance, apparently headed to my room, before doubling back when she realizes where I'm sitting. She's got one arm wrapped around her chest, securing the towel wrapped around her. In her other hand, she's clutching her deodorant, holding it up in the air between us. For a moment, she just stares at me, face flushed, looking too angry to speak.

"What did you do to my deodorant?" she demands, in a low, controlled voice, each word enunciated. She's holding her left arm up at a weird angle, trying to keep it from rubbing on her sides. Even from a distance, it would be clear that the thick white substance smeared there isn't deodorant.
 

"Huh?" I fix an innocent expression on my face, aware of the spoon of cereal halfway to my mouth.

She brings the bottle up to her nose and takes in a whiff of the disfigured stick of white. "Is this…oh my God. Is this cream cheese?"

I pull my head back. "That's disgusting, Julia," I say. "Why are you using dairy as deodorant?"

Her mouth presses into a tight line and she takes in a deep breath that hollows out the base of her throat. There are beams flying out of her eyes and not knowing what she's going to do next sends a thrill through me.
 

She points the deodorant at me like it's a weapon, and I think for a second she's going to hurl it in my direction. I prepare to dodge a blow, but instead, she says, with eerie calmness, "Two can play this game, Giles. Consider this war."

She still doesn't realize
she
started this, a prank war with a prank war master. She might end up regretting it, but my only regret is not starting one sooner, not realizing what a fun opportunity lived under my own roof.
 

I hold up the confused, innocent facade until she turns around again and storms back toward the bathroom. Then a smirk tugs at my lips.
 

If she really wants me to quit messing with her, she should stop being so damn hot when she's angry.
 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Julia

T
ALKING
TO
MY
UNCLE
on the phone was one thing, but meeting him in person requires I look him in the eye. His questions are invasive, but the professional demeanor he maintains throughout helps me set my emotions aside long enough to recount events in a cohesive way.
 

I know that deep inside he finds the situation as uncomfortable as I do, but his statements are all proactive and confident. He says the first step would be a cease and desist letter, warning the site to take down the content or face legal action. My uncle expects this should work quickly because, after assessing the site and judging by the statistics he was able to unearth, he came to the conclusion the site does not appear to have any viable cash flow to afford the costs of litigation. This is good news for me because my uncle is working my case pro bono.
 

He uncovered one other important piece of information. The hosting account for the website is registered under the name Steven Franklin. The very same asshole that flaunted the footage to his friends right in front of me. I don't think I've ever felt hatred more potent than in the moment I hear those words leave my uncle's lips. I learn the website was live three months before the video of me was even filmed. But by then, there was already a collection of pictures and videos of young women, all taken without their consent, as the captions boast.
 

For the last time…it wasn't me, Julia. I didn't do it.
 

Liar. Andrew never once denied filming us, of course, he just always insisted he wasn't behind the video making it onto the website. I knew in my gut that was a lie from the beginning and now I'm one hundred percent certain. He knew about his best friend's website and filmed me with the intention of posting the video there. He knew exactly what he was doing.
 

The thought that his disgusting action wasn't out of post-breakup spite, but out of pure calculation that began while we were still dating, somehow makes it all worse. Blinding anger grabs onto me and makes me want to break something. I close my hands into tight fists.

"I want the whole site taken down," I say to my uncle, in a voice I don't quite recognize. "And I want everyone behind it to pay for what they've done."

"I agree. But my first priority is to have any footage of you removed as quickly as possible. From there, we have a lot of legal ground to strong-arm Franklin to shut down the site."

My uncle says that even if Franklin is dumb enough to put up a fight in an attempt to defend his site, we will bombard him with civil and criminal charges, drowning him in the costs of damages and legal proceedings.

"Criminal charges?"

"California has a two-party consent law, making it a crime to record private interactions without the consent of all parties involved. The list of potential charges is long but, for starters, your ex can be charged with illegal wiretapping and this Franklin guy with distributing the illegal content."

"Does that mean jail time?"
 

"Hard to say. That will largely depend on the judge, but that is always a possibility."

I think on it for a few seconds. Up until today, I'd only considered my own situation, but this has affected many more girls than just me. The website's sole purpose is to allow vindictive people to leak naked pictures and videos of young women engaged in explicit sexual activity, none of which were meant for anyone else's eyes, and many of which were taken without consent. Steven doesn't have an ounce of remorse for what he's done. And Andrew? I doubt he does, either.
 

"Let's bury these assholes." My voice is low and mean and determined. I've always been respectful in the way I speak around my uncle, but he doesn't even blink at my use of profanity.
 

Instead, he nods knowingly, and says, "That motherfucker had no idea who he was messing with."

And, for the first time in our meeting, a small but genuine grin pulls at my mouth. My uncle is known as a monster of an attorney, he will sink his steel jaws into this case and not let up until he gets the outcome he seeks. But the reason for my grin is the proud spark in my uncle's eyes, telling me he wasn't referring to himself.
 

He was referring to
me.

That motherfucker had no idea who he was messing with.

The next few days are busy with work. I've picked up extra shifts now that classes are officially over. I'm not taking any classes over the summer session, in order to save money to be able to cut back on work hours once the fall quarter starts up again in a few months. Over the past few days, there's been a pleasant shift for me at work. Ever since Lex rescued me from crying in front of Steven, she and I have grown inexplicably closer in a way she never allowed before. We've fallen into a comfortable space where our conversations have quickly evolved from tense, forced small talk to what I'd imagine friends would have.
 

Wednesday rolls around and at just four in the afternoon, the lunch crowd is gone and the dinner crowd has yet to trickle in. I usually don't like when things slow down this much. But Lex is keeping me company, filling out order forms, something she could do in her office but is opting to do closer to me.
 

We spend a ridiculous amount of time talking during my shifts. More than I think either of us wants to admit. I've learned a lot about her over the past few days. Lex's working full time through her degree, a double major in business and engineering. I asked her how she did on her finals and she told me she aced them. I laughed at first, because the unassuming way she said it made it seem like a joke. But she wasn't joking. If I didn't know her, if I didn't glimpse the subtle signs of stress oozing out of her ever so often, I'd think it was easy for her. I might even be tempted to envy her. But the girl has no time in her life for anything else. No social life, nothing for her own enjoyment. She simply barrels through, busting her butt quietly and without complaint.

Seeing her and her trailblazing confidence, I'd guess she was raised in an affluent family. But from some of the things she's said, I've gathered the opposite. Sometimes her anecdotes are just tiny threads that make no real sense out of order, but strung together the tapestry becomes clear. She's been on her own from a young age, the only family she ever mentions is a younger sister that she seems to be responsible for.
 

Being a pseudo parent for a sibling, without any other family to lean on, is something I can't imagine. I come from a big family. My two sisters and I were always surrounded by cousins, aunts, and uncles. And today, I miss my family with a pang in my chest.
 

I miss the comfort of my sisters, knowing I could be as honest and open with them as I wanted. Having jokes that weren't really that funny, but made us laugh until our sides hurt. I even miss my sisters being in my face all the time, never giving me privacy. And I miss the obnoxiously loud, enthusiastic raising of voices whenever someone got excited in the middle of a conversation. It got loud in our house, all the time. Everyone talked over each other, no one making an effort to level their voice or their laughter.

And my parents, as insanely strict and conservative as they are, have always provided for us. Never allowing us to struggle more than what was necessary for our growth into adulthood. Sometimes we forget to count our blessings because we are looking at them from the wrong angle.

"How come you never talk about your new roommates?" Lex asks, without looking up from the ledger where she's writing.
 

I'm cutting fruit for garnish, preparing for the dinner crowd. "There's nothing much to say."

"Do you not like them?"

I lower my voice, though there's no one around to overhear.

"The girl, she's never around. I swear, I forget she lives there. And it's
her
house. The guy…he's…" I shake my head at all the inappropriate words that threaten to leave my mouth. "Let's just say he's a huge pain in my ass. He's the big-headed, God's-gift-to-women type."