Chapter 3

In the third week, Cara turned up the heat and her attacks got even more intense.

That day, Alex was waiting for me outside the school gate after class, saying he wanted to take me to a new restaurant.

As soon as I got in the car, his phone rang. The call came through the car's speakers via Bluetooth, and the caller ID showed it was Cara.

Alex answered, but before he could say a word, Cara's voice exploded through the speakers. "Alex, where are you? Please, come save me!

"I'm at Central Plaza, my car broke down, and I'm all alone out here in the middle of nowhere. I'm freaking out!"

Central Plaza was hardly the middle of nowhere. It was one of the most bustling commercial centers in Flanta.

But that wasn't the real issue. What really stood out was Cara's tone. Her voice was trembling on the verge of tears, completely dependent, like Alex was the only person left on earth who could possibly rescue her.

Alex glanced at me and hesitated for a moment.

I knew what he was thinking.

He'd made today's dinner plan three days ago and even booked the place. If he headed to Central Plaza now, our dinner would be ruined.

But Cara sounded so desperate. If he didn't go, he'd look like a bad friend.

Before Alex could say a word, I made the decision for him. "Go ahead. Car trouble is a hassle. Go check on her. We can have dinner another time."

Alex let out a sigh of relief and ruffled my hair. "You're sweet. I'll drop Cara off and come find you right after."

He made a U-turn and headed for Central Plaza. Twenty minutes later, he pulled up to the spot Cara had mentioned.

Sure enough, Cara's car was parked on the side of the road with the hazard lights blinking.

She was standing next to it, having swapped her baseball jacket for a men's windbreaker. Maybe she'd borrowed it from another male friend this time.

As soon as Cara spotted Alex's car, she dashed over and tried to open the passenger door, ready to hop in.

She tugged at it twice, but couldn't get in. My bag was sitting on the passenger seat, blocking the way.

She bent down to peek inside, and that was when she saw me sitting in the back.

Her expression flickered through three emotions—first surprise, then a flash of irritation, and finally she snapped on an overly enthusiastic grin.

"Hey, Yvonne. You're here, too. Sorry, I was so panicked that I didn't even notice," Cara said as she swung open the back door and slid in next to me.

"Hope you don't mind. I was totally out of options. Alex was literally my last hope."

That was slick.

"My last hope" meant she'd already tried everyone else, and none of them could come. Only Alex was up to the task.

To her, Alex was the one and only, totally irreplaceable.

I smiled and said, "Of course not. When you're in trouble, it's only right for Alex to help you."

Cara seemed pleased and started talking with Alex about how to get her car towed.

As she talked, she kept leaning forward, almost pressing herself against the front seat, her arm slung over Alex's seat. From the back, it looked like she was practically wrapping herself around him.

I sat quietly on the other side of the back seat, looking at my phone. I texted my roommate: [Ready to kick things off.]

She replied instantly: [Finally. I've been waiting three weeks for this.]

I put my phone away, glanced out the window at the streetlights racing by, and a smile slowly spread across my face.

I hadn't been doing nothing these past three weeks.

The first thing I did was figure out what Cara's real place was in Alex's circle of friends.

On the surface, she was the "group favorite", just one of the guys, and nobody really saw her as a girl. But was that actually true?

I got my hands on their chat logs and party pics from the past few years. When the money talked, nothing was off-limits.

After going through all their chats and photos, I spotted something pretty fascinating.

Cara switched up her game depending on which guy she was dealing with. With Alex, she was the girl who understood him better than anyone else.

With Frank, she was one of the guys, always down to hang out and talk trash. And with Mark Evans, the one with a girlfriend, she played the little sister who always needed someone to take care of her.

Mark's girlfriend was Winnie Summers, a gentle girl who treated her boyfriend like he was the center of her world.

Whenever Cara ran into Mark, she'd use her sweetest, most playful tone and say things like, "Mark, can you help me move this?" or "Mark, you're the best. So manly."

Mark always helped her out, no questions asked. Winnie never said a word, but I could catch that flash of disappointment in her eyes.

I went out of my way to catch Winnie after the party once, pretending it was a random question. "So, what do you think of Cara?"

Winnie hesitated and then said, "She's lovely, but sometimes she gets a little too close to Mark."

She was being really euphemistic, but I could sense the disappointment behind her words.

And she wasn't the only one.

There were two other guys in the group with girlfriends, and both of their girlfriends had issues with Cara, but they never really spoke up.

Whenever they tried, Cara would shut them down with, "Come on, we're just friends. You're totally overthinking it."

If any of the girlfriends showed even a hint of annoyance, Cara would put on her most pitiful face in front of the guys and say, "Does she not like me? Maybe I shouldn't come around anymore."

And just like that, the guys would jump in to reassure her, and start thinking their girlfriends were being overly sensitive or jealous.

That was the classic "pick-me tomboy" move. She'd play the "just one of the guys" card, act all chill and easygoing, and keep up this sweet, harmless act around the guys.

But with the girls? She'd send a clear message: "This is my turf. Don't even think about stepping in."

But here was the kicker. What made Cara so good at this game was also her fatal flaw.

She got such a kick out of being the only girl in a crowd of guys that she'd end up letting her guard down and giving herself away without even noticing.

I was going to snap up every one of her slip-ups, keep a record, and when the timing was perfect, let everyone see the truth.