Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 175455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 877(@200wpm)___ 702(@250wpm)___ 585(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 175455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 877(@200wpm)___ 702(@250wpm)___ 585(@300wpm)
My brow furrows because that is the day of our date, and the time is about an hour and a half after I left Carter’s. That could be a coincidence, though. I’m not sure how the meta data of a photo works, but Erika probably could have taken a screenshot of an older photo on her cell phone that evening to get a recent time stamp. It could just be convenient timing—that seems more likely to me than the alternative.
“Nice try,” I tell her, shaking my head.
“I’m not done,” she assures me, not sounding worried about my current dismissal of her evidence. “Now, this is the evidence. This is the video. I just wanted to show you that pic first.” Meeting my gaze and flashing me a smile, she says, “It’s cute, right?”
I give her a dead look.
“Okay,” she says, tapping her screen. “So, this is the same night, a couple minutes later,” she says, dragging the video up to show me the meta data on that, too. Same night, a couple minutes later. “Now, obviously I had to be sly taking this. Carter’s not dumb enough to have let me do it. Anyway, once things get going, we bumped the headboard and the phone fell down so you can’t see what’s happening anymore, but trust me, you’ll be able to tell by listening.”
Suddenly overcome with wariness, I take a step back and shake my head. Common sense tells me I should watch that video and see what’s on it, but between her absolute confidence and how eager she is for me to watch this video… this doesn’t feel like a trick. That means whatever is on this video is going to be really bad. A screen shot might have explained the photo having the right time stamp, but a video?
Taking a step toward me, Erika tilts the screen and presses play. Despite my misgivings, I can’t help looking at the screen.
“Hi, Zoey,” Erika whispers to the camera. She is nestled in the crook of Carter’s arm and he is lying propped against her pillow, like he was in the picture. The camera is pointed at both of them for a moment, then Erika flashes her audience a little smile and the footage gets shaky for a moment. Her gaze keeps drifting to Carter like she’s checking to make sure he isn’t awake as she crawls on her knees carefully, turning around and positioning the camera on the shelf on her headboard. There is some noise as she settles it as quietly as possible.
The position isn’t perfect, but since she had to hide the phone, that’s not surprising. I can still see the back of Carter’s head and over his shoulder. So the view is perfectly clear when Erika climbs back to her previous position and slides an arm affectionately around his waist.
I swallow, discomfort enveloping me. I can feel myself growing tense while my mind screams that he’s asleep. Even though I want to slap her for even touching him so affectionately, he isn’t doing anything wrong. He’s asleep and she’s caressing him like a lover—if this is her proof, it’s only proof that she’s a creep.
On the video, Carter stirs, making a faint noise.
“Shh, baby,” she murmurs, shifting her body so that she’s half on top of him. Erika cradles the back of his neck tenderly and leans in, kissing her way along his neck.
Rage surges through my body, leaving a trail of blistering heat in its wake. I can feel the warmth of anger traveling up my neck and suffusing my face.
“Right now I’m leaning more toward punching you in the face than dumping Carter, if I’m being honest,” I tell her.
Smiling faintly, eyes on the screen, she says, “Keep watching.”
My stomach twists in protest, telling me whatever I do, I should not continue watching this. I won’t be able to unsee it, and I am starting to worry that what Erika views as proof of Carter’s infidelity is going to feel a lot more like sexual assault to me.
“Is he asleep the whole time?” I ask, looking away from the video to her. “If so, I’m afraid to tell you, male rape is not my kink.”
Fury leaps in her gaze. “Rape? Are you fucking delusional?”
“If you had sex with him while he was literally unconscious, that’s not cheating. It’s a felony, and you should be locked up for it.”
She gapes at me for the longest moment, but finally pulls herself out of it and shakes her head. “I didn’t rape anybody, psycho. I think you have your sex life with Carter and mine severely mixed up if that’s the first place your mind goes, you little freak. Keep watching. He wakes up.”
Taking a step away from her, I shake my head. “I don’t want to watch this. This is making me uncomfortable, and not in the way you intended. I’m going to tell Carter about this tape. You can show it to him, and he can decide what to do with you.”