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ZEKE: Can I call you?
My heart flutters in my chest and before I can respond, my phone starts ringing. I grab my earbuds and answer the call.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey yourself.” His voice is husky and everything inside me tightens.
It’s only been a few days and I already miss his voice. I chuckle, awkwardly trying to calm the flutters in my stomach and not sound crazy.
“I’ve missed the sound of your laugh,” he says. There’s a new texture to his voice, a soft hush, as if saying those words too loud will break a spell.
“I’ve missed you too,” I admit.
“Tell me what you’re doing,” he says.
I swallow hard and frown.
“So I can feel like I’m there with you.”
“I’m in my room,” I say, whispering as if it’s a secret. “I’m lying under my peach duvet, staring at the ceiling. And it’s raining.”
“What are you wearing?”
I press my hand to my chest, as if it will still my heartbeat, let me hold it right here, full of hope and expectation, before the whole thing bursts.
“Zeke…”
“I’m just trying to get a visual.” His voice is low.
I can hear his breath through the phone. I run my fingertips along the hem of my linen shorts and bite down on my bottom lip.
“A tank top and sleep shorts.”
“Which ones?”
“My blue striped shorts.”
“Which top?” His voice sounds thick and I look down at the shirt, which I’d given no thought about. It is white with lacy trim and exceptionally thin. I can see my nipples through it.
“It’s white with lace.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. The silence between us feels so heavy and I run my fingertip over my puckered nipple.
“Will you send me a picture?” His voice sounds strangled, as if he’s fighting against something and failing.
Warm pressure pools between my legs and I squeeze my thighs together to find some relief.
My breath comes up short and I lick my dry lips. There’s only one place this can be headed. Knowing that he wants to see me like this, my nipples pebbled against the thin fabric of my tank top. I know what he’ll do with that picture, and it’s not a very friendly thing. The kiss was one thing, but this will cross the line so completely…
And yet…
Before I can think twice, I throw down the comforter and flip on the lamp next to my bed. I angle the camera and try to push my spreading breasts together just a bit so they don’t look quite so shapeless. I snap the picture and when I look at it, I have to admit, it’s hot. In the dim, warm light, my nipples are hard and cut through the fabric, and you can see the dusky pink outline of my areolas. My head is turned to the side, my lips parted and my hair fans across my pillow.
I hesitate. Do I want to do this? Do I want to go down this road, knowing I may not make it back in one piece?
“Faye?” He sounds unsure.
I hitSend. As soon as I do, my stomach flips and my heart races. It’s out there now. I’ve blown any semblance of a line between us out of the water. He’s quiet for a long moment, and all I can do is wait for him to say something, anything. Praying this isn’t a joke or a dream.
