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It sounded basic and desperate, even in my head.

An idea struck me. The photo. The one from the gala. It was innocent enough, but might break the late-night ice, right? At least it was something.

Scrolling through my camera roll, I found the picture—the two of us smiling, her head resting on my bicep. That night, there had been moments. Real ones.

Without giving myself a chance to rethink it, I attached the photo and hit send.

As soon as it was gone, a tight knot formed in my chest. My thumb hovered over the screen, waiting for those little dots to appear, signaling her reply.

Seconds stretched into what felt like minutes. Nothing.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and placed my phone face down on my chest, scrubbing a hand over my tired eyes. Maybe tonight, of all nights, she was actually getting some sleep.

The vibration of a message broke through the thoughts. My heart jumped, and I grabbed my phone, squinting against the sudden brightness.

Eleanor: Who is this? and how did you get that picture? *knife emoji*

I let out a scoff and shook my head.

Me: Ouch.. that hurts…

Eleanor: I mean, anyone could have gotten that photo… prove it’s you.

Me: How do I do that?

Eleanor: Send me a dick pic… I’ll know

Me: Jesus… no

Eleanor: A selfie? Preferably one with you shirtless.

I stared at her message, weighing her request like it was some kind of life-altering decision. She wanted a selfie. A selfie. Did people even still do that? I could say with confidence I’d never taken one before. Would I look ridiculous? Probably.

Sucking in a breath, I swiped out of the chat and opened my camera app. The front camera flipped on, and I made sure the front flash was on. It felt unnatural, taking a photo of myself in the dark. My hand hovered in midair as I awkwardly held the phone out and hit the button.

The result? Questionable.

I stared at the photo for a moment, assessing it like it was a criminal mugshot. A slight smirk tugged at my lips, my hair was a bit unruly, and there was just a hint of chest hair peeking at the bottom of the frame.

With a shrug, I attached the photo to the message and hit send.

Her reply bubbles popped up immediately.

Eleanor: IT IS YOU! GASP!

Eleanor: And you’re shirtless… You know what that does to a woman??

Me: Why would I lie? lol

Me: But maybe you’re the one who’s not who she says she is…

Her response came just as quick.

Eleanor: Hmmm… smooth, Mr. Stone…

And then, without warning, my screen lit up with a photo.

She was blowing a kiss to the camera and winking, looking like a damn dream. The edge of the frame teased a bit of lace from one of those matching pajama sets that had haunted my recent dreams.