Chapter 2

The next morning, right after I finished washing up,

Tiffany slid over, holding a warm cup of milk in her hands.

"Riley, about yesterday... I'm sorry. I lost control of my emotions."

"Take this milk as an apology. Please don't be mad at me, okay?"

She smiled with pure, unadulterated sincerity.

If I hadn't read her forum update last night, I might have actually fallen for it.

I didn't take the cup.

"No thanks. I'm lactose intolerant."

Her hand froze, but she didn't lose her composure. Instead, she set it casually on her own desk.

"What about lunch? What do you want? I can pick it up for you."

"I'm good."

Over the next few days, Tiffany basically turned into my personal maid.

She fetched warm water for me, saved seats in class, and even dove to pick up pens whenever I dropped them.

Our other two roommates couldn't stop praising her.

"Riley, Tiffany already admitted she was wrong. Don't be so cold."

"We all live together. Let's just keep the peace."

I stayed silent. When someone acts completely out of character, there’s always an ulterior motive.

The nicer she acted, the higher my guard went up.

That weekend, a package arrived for me while I was swamped with an assignment.

Tiffany volunteered enthusiastically to run down to the campus mailroom and grab it.

When she came back, she held a large cardboard box.

"Riley, you bought so much men's skincare! Is Logan's birthday coming up?"

I answered casually without looking up, "Next Wednesday."

"Oh," she murmured, setting down the box before slipping out of the room.

Wednesday afternoon, right in the middle of my lecture,

Logan sent me a photo.

[Babe... is this your idea of a birthday surprise?]

[Because with this color and style, there is no way my legs are going anywhere near it.]

I tapped on the picture.

It was a pair of neon pink men's boxer briefs, stamped with a tacky print of two intertwined lovebirds.

Next to it was a small pink card.

Written in neat handwriting: "May this hold you close and keep you warm in my place—From someone who truly understands you."

Looking at those words made me physically nauseous.

I typed back instantly:

[That wasn't me! Do you think I've lost my mind?!]

Logan's call came through immediately.

"I knew it wasn't you. The size is completely off anyway."

"Is there a sender name on the shipping label?" I asked.

"No, it was sent anonymously."

"The return address is from the postal locker right outside your campus."

Everything clicked. Tiffany's bizarre behavior over the past few days flashed across my mind.

No wonder she had been so eager to do chores and grab my packages.

She was digging for his details.

What was her goal?

To disgust me with these pathetic, trashy tactics?

Or did she genuinely believe a cheap pair of pink boxers could seduce someone else's man?

I spilled everything to Logan—her weird behavior in the dorm, her fake apology, and that anonymous forum post.

On the other end of the line, Logan was silent for a long moment.

"Is this girl completely unhinged?"

"Babe, don't stress. I'm driving down to see you this weekend."

"Let's see what kind of circus she tries to pull next."

I nodded.

"Okay. I'll wait for you."