"What should I do about this Olivia thing?" I ask. "She recently sent me a message telling me she misses me, but that she didn't want to hear back from me because it's too panful. Should I message her and tell her I know?"

"No," Gabe says. "We need to get proof that it's actually her. If she knows that we know, she will probably try to be sneakier. I'll do some digging around."

"Okay. Thanks, Gabe."

He gets up from the couch with his laptop in hand. "I'm going to go eat a gallon of ice cream and cry while listening to Celine Dion," he says.

"Umm, why?"

"Because my ex-girlfriend has moved on and I haven't. Isn't that what girls do?" he asks.

"I'm more of a Taylor Swift fan," I say. "And I might eat a pint of ice cream, then feel guilty. That shit will go right to your thighs. Why couldn't it go to my ass instead? I could use more junk in my trunk."

"You do have a small ass," he says.

"Hey!"

"What? We're broke up. I don't have to be nice anymore," he says.

I flip him off and he laughs.

Maybe we can be friends after all.

10 p.m.

Instagram stalk.

Andrea decides she wants coffee. So, we meet at the coffee shop on campus, which is surprisingly busy for ten at night. I guess college students really love their caffeine, me included.

We invited Carter to meet us, but he's busy Instagram stalking his ex and her new guy.

Andrea and I order a coffee and sit at a table in the back corner. As soon as we sit, Andrea pulls out her phone and starts taking selfies with her coffee.

"I can't believe I'm out in public with you right now," I say.

"What?" she asks, not putting down her phone. "I'm only young and hot for a little while. When I get older, these will be the pictures that I show my kids so they know how hot I used to be."

I laugh. "Yes, I'm sure your children will want to see hundreds of selfies of you making a duck face from a slightly different angle each time."

Finally, she puts her phone down. "Laugh all you want, but the lighting in here is great. The right lighting on an Instagram pic can mean the difference between me snagging a husband or spending the rest of my life alone."

"I don't think it means all that."

"Shut up," she says. "You have a boyfriend."

"No, I don't."

"I thought you and Ty were a thing."

"We are dating," I say. "But my relationship status still says single."

Andrea shakes her head at me. "You condemn me for trying to snag a husband on Instagram, yet you let social media define your relationship. You are such a hypocrite, Kihanna Evers."

"Fine. I'm a hypocrite. But at least I don't take duck faced selfies with a paper coffee cup," I say.

"Just for that, I'm going to unfollow you," she says, picking up her phone.

"Losing an Instagram follower won't kill me."

She gasps. "How do you have 1.7 million Instagram followers?"

"Rich dad," I say, shrugging. "Apparently that makes me interesting."

Andrea held out her phone. On the screen, there is a picture of me. I'm taking a selfie in my car holding a coffee cup.

"In my defense, I'm not making a duck face and I was in the privacy of my own car," I say.

"We need to take a selfie together. I have, like, two hundred followers. Send me some of your 1.7 million followers," she says. "Come to think of it, why haven't we taken a selfie on your Instagram? We have, like, five on mine."

"You put way too much emphasis on online relationships..." my voice trails off. "Oh my God. I really am a hypocrite."

"Yep," she agrees.

"Fine. Let's take a selfie."

She grins, obviously satisfied.

We take a selfie together and I upload it, making sure to tag her. Almost immediately, her phone starts vibrating with notifications.

"If you even reach for your phone, I will delete that picture," I threaten, knowing if I didn't, she would be on her phone the whole time we're here.

She pouts. "You're bossy."

"You still love me."

"Yes, I do," she says.

Her phone won't stop vibrating, so I force her to turn it off. I turned off my Instagram notifications a long time ago.

"So, how is living with your ex-boyfriends?" Andrea asks.

"Other than seeing Gabe a lot more, it's not so different than before."

"How are things between you two?"

"Good," I answer. "We are actually becoming friends."

"Only you would become friends with your ex-boyfriend," she says.

"We are better as friends," I say. "I like hanging out with him, but we don't have chemistry. Not like Ty and I do."

"Translation, you don't want to fuck him," she says.

I look around to make sure nobody heard her. Thankfully, everybody seems off in their own world.

"Andrea!"

"What?" she asks. "It's true."

"Still, you don't have to announce it to the world."

"Whatever," she says. "Have you and Ty been all over each other? I feel sorry for Gabe having to live there with you."

"No, we haven't been all over each other," I say. "We are waiting until we've dated a month to have sex."

"The two of you have basically been dating since the beginning of school."

"No. We had sex. We just recently started dating. There is a difference between the two," I say.

"Trust me, I know the difference. Sex is a one night stand. Two, if he's good," she says. "What you and Ty had going on was an I'm having sex with you because I'm in love with you but don't want to admit it, kind of thing. Why make the guy wait?"

"I don't know," I say. "Because I want it to mean something. I don't want our relationship to be all physical. I want to have a meaningful relationship."

"Aw, you really like him," she says.

I groan. "Is it that obvious? Everybody keeps saying that. I want to be a little bit mysterious, you know?"

"It's okay because he really likes you, too," she says. "It's only pathetic if one person is way more interested than the other person is."

"How do you come up with this stuff?" I ask.

"Everybody knows this stuff," she says. "Besides you, I guess."

"Good thing I have you around to teach me," I say sarcastically.

"Cheers to that," she says, holding out her coffee cup.

I started to tap my cup against hers, but she stops me.

"You have to look into my eyes when you cheer, or else you will have seven years of bad sex," she says.

I laugh, but do as she says.

This is why I love Andrea.

12 a.m.

The beginning.

That night, when I get home from hanging out with Andrea, there is a single black rose on top of my pillow with a note underneath it.

This is only the beginning.

Welcome to hell, bitch.

I throw the note and rose down.

That night, I sleep on the couch.

Friday, November 12 7 a.m.

Flattery.

"Kihanna."

I jerk up, and look around, trying to figure out where I am.

Oh, right. I'm in the living room. I slept on the couch last night.

I look over and see Ty standing beside me.

"Why are you asleep on the couch?" he asks.

"Umm... note," I say, still half asleep.

"What note?"

Ugh, it's too early to be explaining things. "I got a note. In my room. I didn't want to sleep in there after I found it."

"Why didn't you come to my room?" he asks.

"Because you can't keep your hands to yourself and I'm trying to be good."

He smirks. "It's not my fault you're so sexy."

I roll my eyes and pretend to be annoyed. "Flattery won't help you.

Lie.

Flattery is so helping.

"Show me the note," Ty says.

"Okay," I say, getting up from the couch. "I should probably take a picture and email it to the detective anyway."

"How is Brian getting into our apartment?" he asks. "We live on the twentieth floor."

"Brian is getting in the front door," I answer. "But Brian isn't the one leaving the notes. I bet Gabe got video footage of Olivia last night, which would be awesome. We were needing solid evidence."