How to Destroy a Rich Boy

Chapter Sixteen

It was a late Friday afternoon, and I was sat in the middle of a crowded lecture hall.

 Instead of paying attention as a good student would, my eyes were persistent on their decision to wander in search of a certain someone. After a good five-minute scour along each and every row, I'd finally come to the conclusion that Nathan Woods had skipped yet another lecture.

 It had been a full week since he had shown up to my flat unexpectedly, and that had been my last point of contact with him. After he fitted in my fire alarm, the rest of the evening had been pretty uneventful. When we started working on our project, I made several attempts to start up a casual conversation with him, but he answered each of my attempts with absolute silence. 

He was stubbornly persistent in not wanting to be my friend, and it was ruining everything. 

The only small success I had gained from my gold-digging plan so far was the money I got from selling the dress he had bought me. Yes, it had more than covered this month's rent, but I was still hoping, no needed to get way more off of him than that. My father, my brothers, and most importantly, my mother all needed that money.

I tapped my finger furiously against the hardwood desk, feeling more and more anxious by the second.

  How do I get inside that stupid boy's head? 

 Despite my numerous attempts, he still wasn't warming up to me in quite the way I hoped. I racked my brain for a solution, and then the answer hit me like a sharp slap in the face. 

When I snuck a peek at his laptop, I remember finding a folder quite clearly labelled: My journal. If I got a read of that, then manipulating him would be a whole lot easier. Who knows what kind of secrets were contained in there?

Now my only problem was how I was going to gain access to those files.

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"You're going to do, what!" Brandon exclaimed, his voice hitting a painfully high-pitched tone.

 "I'm going to break into his flat," I shrugged as I finished lacing up my black combat boots.

 "Erm...and how exactly are you going to do this without the keys to his flat? And better yet, how do you even know when he lives?" He scoffed as he leaned against the doorframe of my room while eyeing me with raised eyebrows.

I stood up with a sigh and angled myself to face him. "You seriously underestimate my stalking abilities, don't you?" I laughed. "Luckily for me, Nathan knows absolutely nothing about internet safety. The idiot stupidly left his address up on a group chat when he was advertising some stupid party he was hosting a couple weeks back. 

  And-" I raised a hand. " I don't need a key. He let it slip the other day that he likes to keep a spare key under his mat," I snickered, internally rejoicing at the idea that Nathan Woods was a moron.

Brandon slowly nodded his head. "Wow, you were right. I clearly did underestimate your stalking abilities," he snickered. 

"Yeah, I know," I bragged as I flipped my hair dramatically over my shoulders. "Well, I better get started, see ya later," I called with a smile before sliding my way past him. 

"Wait," he said, stilling me by placing a hand on my shoulder. I looked back at him curiously to find his eyebrows pulled together in worry. 

"How do you know that he won't come home while your there, or worse, what if he's already there when you break-in," he explained in a serious tone.

I rolled my eyes. "Yet again, you're underestimating me. I know from yet another social medial stalk that every Wednesday evening from exactly seven to eight PM he goes jogging. As long as I am out by eight, he will never know," I shrugged.