Everly Jensen and Sawyer Camden are friends.
The time stamp: two hours ago. Two hours ago, when I was in class, with no internet.
That son of a bitch hacked me.
Twenty-Two
“Who does that?” I’m fuming. “Who breaks into someone’s Facebook account and updates their relationship status?”
I’m on the phone with Chloe. My tirade is met with silence, then tears. You know, the kind of tears you get when you’re laughing so hard you cry? Those. She gasps for breath while I wait.
“Chloe, this is serious.”
“You’re right, you’re right.” She blows out a breath while trying to compose herself. “Seriously”—she clears her throat—“it is pretty bad. Not, say, physical breaking and entering bad, but close, right?”
I gasp. “Oh, nooooo, you did not just say that!”
“I did!” She’s back to laughing and I hear a thump. I’m pretty sure she just laughed herself off her bed. I’ve reached the front doors of Hymer and I push through them, anxious to keep moving, even though I’ve no idea where my destination is. “It’s not as bad as, say, making a fake dating profile for your friend and sending them on a date without telling them,” she deadpans, then breaks into a fit of giggles.
I’m never gonna live that one down, so I roll my eyes even though she’s not there to see it and then jog down the steps outside the building.
“I’ve got to go, Chloe, I’ll call you later.” I shouldn’t have called her. It was a total violation of the first rule of proper complaining. Pick the right audience for your complaint.
“Sawyer Camden is officially my new favorite person! I hope you’re very happy together!” she says in a singsong before I can hang up.
I reach the bottom step and stop. I pull my jacket closed and think. I really don’t have any idea where I’m going. I need to talk to that arrogant asshole, obviously. And that’s when I realize I have no idea how to contact him. He’s not left his phone number on any of the cards that were sent. I don’t know where he lives, other than somewhere in the Philadelphia area, and the one person who could tell me, Finn, just went to teach a class.
I groan. So that’s what Finn was going on about. He must have seen the Facebook update about Sawyer and I. Shit, my mom is going to see that Facebook status and ask me a hundred questions that I have none of the answers to. She’s probably adding Sawyer to her Christmas list right now.
Couldn’t he have just called me? Like a normal person?
I should Google him. I can’t believe I haven’t done it already. I am so off my game. Wait, I can use Facebook. Might as well, since he went through all the trouble of hacking my account to accept his own friend request. I tap open the app on my phone and pull up his profile. I could message him this way, or… let’s see what we have to work with here.
Works at Clemens Corp.
Of course he does. Clemens Corp is a technology company. They just made headlines for selling a multi-billion-dollar web browsing project to the entertainment industry. They’ve also developed apps you likely use every day. GPS apps for tracking your children or spouse, that kind of thing. It’s the hot place to work in Philadelphia. The perks are supposedly amazing, like using technology before it’s released, free on-site daycare, a free cafeteria, that kind of thing. He probably used company time and resources to break into my account. Real appropriate, Sawyer.
But the good news is their headquarters are in Logan Square, and I know exactly where the building is.
I Uber myself a ride and say a silent prayer of thanks when the app tells me a car will be here in three minutes. I could walk to Logan Square, it’s less than two miles, but I’m in a hurry. Plus, let’s be real. I want to look good when I arrive, so I’m not hiking over there.
My Uber ride arrives and we shoot over to Market Street. The driver agrees with me, by the way, about Sawyer being completely out of line with this Facebook stunt. See, know your audience. It helps that he has none of the backstory, and I’m the customer so he’s probably going to agree with me anyway, but still. It’s much more satisfying than venting to Chloe.
We loop around City Hall Station then past JFK Plaza before hitting traffic on the Benjamin Franklin Parkway. I check my Facebook app and fume some more.
The car finally pulls up to Logan Square and I thank my new friend Tom and hop out, then head straight for the revolving doors. Once I’ve whooshed through them I realize I’ve got two problems. One, there’s security, and I can’t just grab an elevator. And two, I have no idea where to find him in this fifty-story building. Well, no matter.
My phone dings. It’s my mom, asking if Sawyer eats red meat because she’s thinking of making a roast for Christmas. I think my nostrils actually flare as I march up to the security desk and slap my hands on the counter.