**Note: Plothole may exist in this chapter -- I tried finding something from a handful of chapters ago, but could not because Wattpad still does not have features that make writing easier for writers <3 

I was going to puke.

I quickly excused myself and hid in Lacey's bathroom. Yes, of course I knew Paul.

I knew him too well.

How could this even have happened? What was the odds that the one person I knew well in my econ class was Paul's girlfriend.

I was in the bathroom long enough that Lacey knocked. "Hey, Kiera? Are you okay?" she asked.

I splashed water on my face and rubbed my eyes, trying not to obsess over how I'd act as soon as Paul walked in. What if I started off strong, just told him I knew what he was doing. I could do that. I could confront him head on. What was he going to do?

What if Lacey was in on all this? Maybe she knew. If she was his girlfriend then of course she would have to know, right? Or was that a really stupid assumption to make.

Because if he was fucking with me, he was probably fucking with her, too. He clearly lacked respect for women.

"One second! Yeah, I'm fine!" I shouted back through the door. I had to get out of the bathroom soon. And I needed an excuse to leave.

I shot a text to Cassidy. "Hey, URGENT, can you call me in like five minutes and act like there's an emergency?" She would know what I meant.

Then, without waiting for Cassidy to reply, I headed out of the bathroom.

Lacey did not seem to recognize my distressed composure.

I quickly brushed my fingers through my hair. I just hoped I appeared less upset than I actually was. I felt my phone vibrate in my hand. I knew before I checked that it was Cassidy.

In my head, I counted down the minutes until I could get out of here.

The doorbell rang.

My heartrate immediately kicked up as Lacey walked over to answer the door, her slippers padding against the wooden house's floorboards. Like a nightmare, I was frozen in place, unable to move a muscle no matter what my brain was screaming at me to do.

Paul stood in the doorway holding a cardboard box with grease stains at the bottom. Our pizza. If only he could have been a bit later.

Screw the pizza shop for being on time.

I felt the blood rush out of my cheeks as my hand twitched. Could I make it past him if I just ran? I could pretend that there was an emergency.

But I couldn't. He was already staring at me. He squinted his eyes, then the corners of his lips curved up.

"Keira, right? I think I remember you. You sit on the left side of econ, right?" He walked into the room, past Lacey, and dropped the greasy pizza box on the small counter in the kitchen. Lacey got to work, picking off the sticker that closed the box and grabbing a couple of plates from her cabinet.

"This looks amazing. Thanks again. I know it was sort of out of your way, but..."

"It's fine. I need to study anyway," Paul replied, waving it off. His posture was slightly slumped, shoulders loose. The opposite of the tension that I felt racking my body.

I still hadn't spoken a word to him.

"What's your major?" Paul asked as he picked at a bit of the crust on the pizza. It took me a second to realize he was talking to me and not Lacey.

Of course he wouldn't be talking to Lacey.

"History," I said, meekly. I was only taking economics because it was a requirement. And because my advisor told me it would help me to understand economics and how it intersects with history or whatever.

"Oh, that's cool. You wanna be a historian?" Paul asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess so." I wanted to go to graduate school and potentially do historical research, but he didn't need to know that. Why was he even asking? Was this just another way to manipulate me into giving away more information that he could use against me?

The three of us fell into silence except for the sound of Paul loudly chewing a bit of pizza. I snuck past Lacey and tried not to meet Paul's gaze as I grabbed my own slice of pizza. The cheese stuck to the cardboard on the edges and I had to scoop some of it awkwardly onto my plate. Paul chuckled.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He was acting like he wasn't freinds with David and wasn't planning on ruining my life. Maybe he was simply a pathological liar. And if he was, maybe Lacey needed to be warned.

But maybe she didn't care.

It was potentially the most paranoid thought I'd ever had, but what if Lacey was in on everything. Perhaps she was aware of what Paul was doing to me. Maybe she'd seen me go into the woods and had followed me...

And now I was completely getting out of line. That was ridiculous. Lacey had always been nice to me. She definitely didn't hate me enough to do that. I also vaguely remembered her telling me she was getting her minor in Gender Studies and seemed to at the very least, care about women's issues. She wouldn't just go along with Paul's BS.

Then, Lacey did the worst thing she could have done: she left.

"I need to run to the bathroom actually. Keira, can you make sure Paul doesn't eat my slice of pizza." I nodded, but didn't mean it. If Paul tried, I wasn't going to stop him.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Paul turned back to the pizza box, fingers covered in shiny grease as he grabbed another slice. "How do you know Lacey?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Class."

"You mean econ?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Yes."

He nodded, very slowly. "Yeah, sure. But like. There's a lot of people in econ. How'd you meet her?" he joked.

"We sit near each other," I deadpanned. Why did he even care?

"Okayyy," he replied. I guess he was catching onto the fact that I wasn't very interested in his attention. "Cool, I guess."

He continued eating his pizza and I leaned up against the counter with my arms crossed. I couldn't stand his nonchalance.

"Do you know David?" I asked as blunt as I could. I didn't care if I was showing my hand.

"David?"

"Yeah, David."

"I know a David," he said, carefully. "I mean, I know a few David's. But I think I know which one you are referring to. He's friends with Keaton, right?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Yes." So, he did know Keaton, too. They were actually in on this together.

"Then, yeah. Why are you asking?"

"I don't know. I just thought you guys were friends," I admitted. My voice came out in a hiss.

He stopped eating his pizza and laid the slice back down on his plate. "We're not."

Yes, they were. David told me as much. "Why not?" I asked.

"Why not?" he repeated, dumbly.

"Yeah."

"Because we're not. I've never hung out with him or anything. I know him. I know of him. I don't remember the last time I've talked to him."

I paused, my thoughts running in circles as I tried to put together the pieces of what he was saying to me. He didn't know David. He didn't know. How didn't he know David? He had to be lying. At this point, either he was lying, or David was lying, and I didn't even know what to believe anymore.

"Are you friends with Keaton?" I said sharply, losing my patience with our little game of conversation tennis.

"Noo," he said back, stretching the word out. "I just know him. Similar to David. I'm sorry, am I missing something here? It  feels like I'm missing something."

I clenched my fist and unclenched it again. He couldn't be telling the truth.

Maybe they were all just messing with me.

Or maybe, just maybe, David could have been the only one fuckign with me. After all, how likely was it that all three of them had agreed upon this maniacal plan for torture and...

It made so much sense for it all to just lead right back to David. He hadn't wanted to tell Keaton and Paul that I had a different phone number because he wasn't even in contact with them about all this. From the very beginning it had all been him. Everything was clicking together in my head now.

"Fine. Sorry. David just said he was friends with you," I lied. I couldn't tell him the truth right now. Otherwise, he would think I was ridiculous.

And I suppose it was a bit insulting to him, too.

"Huh. So, are you friends with him?" Paul asked. He narrowed his eyes a bit. "Because if you are, frankly, I feel like there's some stuff you should know."

My interest piqued, I uncrossed my arms and gripped the edge of the counter. "Wait, what?"

He shrugged, but seemed nervous. "I just heard...I heard he was pretty bad to this girl. That is all." Was he really, actually, genuinely, calling David out?

"Who?" I asked, softly.

"Her name is Andrea."