Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
I scream behind my gag. I’ve never been hit before, and the experience isn’t one I’d recommend. Zero stars. Even in my terror, however, my true-crime-obsessed brain is gathering information. Namely, if Angus feels this comfortable screaming at top volume, then we must be in the middle of nowhere, since this structure doesn’t look soundproofed in the least.
With a deep exhale, Angus retakes his seat across from me and resumes his rambling monologue. “And then, I didn’t get an interview at Climb & Conquer, even though that chick said she’d put in a good word for me. I couldn’t understand it. I’ve gotten every job at every gym I’ve ever applied to. Every fucking one. And I couldn’t even get an interview at that one, even though I climbed the expert wall at the party like it was nothing? It made no sense.”
My head is spinning. Angus attended the Climb & Conquer party? How? Why? Is that proof he’s been stalking me all this time, or was it pure coincidence that he was there, and I never saw him? Did Angus see me and that’s why I’m sitting here now, bound to a chair?
Wait.
Henn and his explosive diarrhea.
Mother trucker!
Henn must have seen Angus at the party and told me that gross excuse to get me out of there on a bullet train. I’d find it funny that Henn fell on his sword like that to keep me from bumping into Angus, if I weren’t sitting here now. Except, of course, for the part where Henn only knew about Angus in the first place because he’d secretly hacked me the day after meeting me . . . and then embarked on some kind of vengeance crusade on my behalf that somehow led Angus straight to me. Son of a beach ball.
Angus runs his hand through his hair. “I couldn’t figure out why I didn’t get an interview, and why nobody was answering my emails, so I went to Climb & Conquer’s Instagram to message them there. And who did I see in the background on one of their shots from the party? You. Cuddled up with the hot blonde girlfriend of one of the brothers. It took me a minute to even remember your name, but when I did, I sent a request from a fake profile, and that’s when I went through your Instagram and saw you cuddled up at the other Faraday brother’s wedding with your rich boyfriend. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Not only did Hannah-What’s-Her-Name go to a billionaire’s wedding, but she was there with that guy?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I did a little research and found out you’d worked with blondie, which meant blondie must have set you up with her boyfriend’s rich best friend. Well, that explained it. Obviously, I knew you had to be nothing but a fuck buddy to him because why would someone like him want someone like you as an actual girlfriend? But, anyway, I made a mental note to keep tabs on your relationship with him, just in case I could somehow benefit from your access to him in the future.”
I’m baffled. Angus thinks Henn is out of my league, based on looks alone? It’s the least of my problems at the moment, but I’m offended. Henn is adorable and gorgeous to me, and his smile lights up every room, but it’s his personality that makes him a perfect ten. He’s certainly not out of my league in terms of looks, sir.
“And then, weird shit started happening,” Angus continues. “I couldn’t get a job at any of my usual gyms. My photos were being posted everywhere with warnings about me. My bank accounts were glitching. Freezing me out. It was small stuff at first, but it never let up. I’m thinking, ‘Am I under attack or having a string of bad luck?’” His dark eyes narrow. “And that’s when I went back to your Instagram and saw what finally helped me figure the whole thing out.” He gets up from his chair and begins pacing the small space. “There was a selfie of you in your new apartment in LA. And what did you say in the caption? You thanked your rich boyfriend for his generosity.”
Well, he’s got that wrong. I thanked Reed in that caption, not Henn.
“And then, there was another selfie—this one bragging about landing your dream job. And who’d you thank in the caption again? Your rich boyfriend, again. And then, to cap it all off, there you were with him at blondie’s wedding in Maui to his best friend. How sweet for you both. Double dates for life, huh?”
If my jaw weren’t firmly taped in place, it’d clank into my lap. Angus thinks Reed is my rich boyfriend.
Angus says, “I did some research on your rich boyfriend and Reddit is full of stories about him being a vindictive prick. Did you know he dropped a band from his label simply because their lead singer fucked his ex? Nice boyfriend you’ve got there, Hannah. You can really pick ‘em, eh?” He chortles. “So, that’s when I finally figured everything out: Hannah-What’s-Her-Name cried to her rich, vindictive boyfriend about me, so he hired a hacker to fuck with me. God, I’m good.”