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Lower myself onto his lap.

He goes commando.

There are only three layers of fabric between us.

We’re so, so close to being exactly where we should be.

I fight my blush. Suck a breath through my nose. Press my knees together. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” He slides his arms around my waist.

I frame the photo. Relax into his chest. Rest my head on his.

Click.

“A few more. Just in case.” Every part of me goes warm. He’s holding me like he’ll never let go.

I need that.

I need it to be real.

I let my eyelids flutter closed. I let myself believe it. I let myself fall harder.

My eyes blink open. I stare at the camera. Smile.

Click.

Click.

There. I force myself to rise. Fight the urge to wrap my body around his forever.

“These look good.” I focus all my attention on picking the perfect photo. There. The second looks the coziest. Even if it’s obvious my lipstick is long gone. I show it to Ryan.

“What’s the caption. Wish I could suck my boyfriend’s dick. I’ve got to settle for a phallic vegetable instead. Nice and subtle?”

“You think I won’t post that?”

“You’d make it dirtier.”

I laugh. “Yeah.” I take a seat. Avoid his intense stare.

He’s picking me apart.

Examining all my secrets.

That’s a non-starter.

I’m not telling him how I feel about him.

And the rest…

Nobody knows about the rest.

“No caption.” I hit post. Pull up Instagram. Repeat the process. “How long until she likes it?”

“Don’t know.” He stabs a green bean, brings it to his lips, chews, swallows. “She saw us together. She gets it. We can ease up.”

“No. We have to go harder. We have to make her hurt.”

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