Is it still called self-control if I outsource it?
Dear Lord, my composure was crumbling.
Buzz.
Quinn: I just realised something. If you’re precise and I’m enthusiastic… Does that make us well-rounded?
The dam burst, and I laughed out loud, a sharp, involuntary sound that echoed in the enclosed space.
The studio door opened and Theo stood there, his eyes wide.
“You laughed.”
“Not me,” I lied. “You’re hearing things.”
He rolled his eyes. “How long have I known you? And I can’t remember the last time I heard you laugh like that.”
I regained my self-control. “Go back inside. I’ll be in there in a minute.” I waited until the door closed before focusing on my phone.
Max: That one was acceptable.
Three dots appeared instantly.
ACCEPTABLE. I’m framing that.
I didn’t fight the smile. Don’t encourage yourself.
Too late. If you ever run out of ways to distract me, I can provide suggestions. I am full of them. None are helpful.
Three dots…
Tell me I made you laugh.
Warmth flooded my chest as I typed. You did. Gold star.
Quinn: Gold star? We’re talking a gold medal at least. Is this a first?
I snorted as I typed. You have a short memory. I laughed during our first scene. Remember? When your knee collided elegantly with my dick. Twice.
Three dots…
I *had* forgotten. Damn, I’m good.
I smiled and sent my final message. Goodnight Quinn.
I had never stepped into something without a map before, but for the first time, I was beginning to understand why people did. The ground beneath my rules was shifting. I’d built those rules to keep myself steady.
Tonight, I was walking willingly toward the edge of them.
I didn’t plan on turning back.
Quinn
I lay on my bed, staring at the phone screen, and grinning.
I did it.
A soft knock at the door broke into my thoughts. “Come in, I’m decent.”