Page 11 of Texting the Wrong Bikers

Jesus.

Then another.

You’re fucking gorgeous.

And another immediately after:

Good God woman.

Heat rushes through me so hard it almost hurts.

Dani clutches my arm dramatically. “He’s down bad.”

I’m laughing helplessly when she suddenly snatches the phone out of my hand again. “Dani—”

She bats my hand away. “You’re terrible at this.”

I groan. “What are you doing?”

“I’m helping.” Her brow furrows as she taps at the screen.

“That sentence has literally never ended well.” I reach for the phone, but she holds it out of my reach, holding me back with the other hand.

Still laughing, she opens my camera roll and begins to scroll, ignoring my protests that he isn’t going to want a picture of Owen, my meals, or whatever other random crap I’ve snapped. “Oh my God, there’s the bikini picture. And it’s HOT!”

My soul leaves my body. “Dani, don’t!”

She’s already cackling.

It’s from six months ago. Owen and I were at the lake. I set it up, ready to run over to Owen for a long shot, but I timed it wrong, and it ended up only getting my body in, me half turning back toward the camera, ass, side boob, and everything else practically on display. I almost deleted it afterward because I hated how my stomach looked in it.

Now, wine-warm, reckless, and laughing too hard to think properly, I watch in horror as Dani hits send. Beneath it, she puts an eggplant emoji and the words ‘your turn’.

I freeze, stunned. The room falls silent for half a second, except for the rain pounding the windows. I slowly turn toward her. “What,” I say carefully, “does the eggplant mean?”

Dani innocently stares at me, blinking slowly. But then she absolutely loses her mind laughing so hard she’s bent over, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

“Oh, my God. Dani. What does it mean?”

Dani shakes her head. “You sweet summer child.”

Realization dawns slowly. Horribly. My jaw drops. “Oh, my God. You just asked him for a dick pic, didn’t you?” I lunge for the phone with a shriek while Dani curls into the couch, laughing so hard she can barely breathe. “You psychopath!”

“You needed character development!”

“Oh my God, oh my God—” I finally wrestle the phone back, nearly dropping it onto the floor. My face feels like it’s about a thousand degrees. “No, no, no, no—” I mutter as I frantically try to delete the messages, but they’ve already been read, and the dots are appearing and disappearing. I send an update with the same words, removing the emoji, trying to pass it off as a typo.

Dani wipes tears from beneath her eyes. “Honestly? Iconic behavior. I have no regrets.”

“I’m blocking you. We’re no longer friends.”

“Love you too.” She blows me a kiss.

I stare at the screen. There’s no typing bubble, no response at all, nothing. “Oh my God,” I whisper.

Dani immediately notices the lack of response, too. “Okay, maybe he died,” she jokes nervously.

“You ruined it. I’m going to have to change gyms!” I press my face into the cushion, screaming quietly.