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“Your lasagna was delicious and I loved being here with all of you,” Sage replies—again, selling it really well.
“Anytime, dear.”
Then Sage and I leave through the front door without another word.
“That was nice,” she says sweetly as we reach the car. “I really like your mom.”
I pause as I unlock the driver’s side. Then I glance up at her as I reply, “She likes you too. I can tell.”
Which isn’t a lie.
Sage seems pleased with this response. Warmth and pride color her features as she opens the door and climbs inside.
June
The Anti-hero
Twenty-Five
Sage
“Why are the views so low on our latest videos?”
Adam is hovering over my shoulder as I lean against the counter, scrolling through our feed. Our feed is full of videos by now, but he’s right—views have been down. The first one that went viral, the scene in his dad’s office and one of us making out in his childhood bedroom. None from the last two weeks are as popular as we anticipated.
And I think I know why.
“Well…” I say with a wince as I stare down at the screen. “I have an idea.”
“What?” He leans back on the counter and stares down at me with his arms crossed.
I pull up the first video, specifically the part where he’s choking me from the front. “This,” I say, pointing at the image.
His brow furrows as he stares at the feed, and after a moment, realization dawns on his face. “Oh. That makes sense.”
He hasn’t so much as choked me or smacked my ass since, and viewers miss the degradation.
And honestly…so do I.
“So, I think in today’s video, we should throw in some more of that. They really seem to like it,” I say as I cross the room toward the couch where the tripod is already set up.
Adam has been spending more and more time here since we started filming these. Some nights, he even sleeps over—on the couch, of course. Nothing has happened between us since that confusing make-out sesh on his bed. It was real—of course, it was real. But my wires are still a little crossed and I can’t quite make sense of whether it’s just physically real or if I’m the only delusional one who’s sensing more here. Either way, I’m keeping it all in my head.
Adam has been in a better mood too. It’s like watching him piece himself back together, slowly, one piece at a time.
“But do you?” he asks, throwing me off. I was so lost in my thoughts I missed the original question.
“Huh? Do I what?”
He slowly crosses toward me. “Do you like it? The degradation? Me choking you, pulling your hair, calling you names?”
I swallow my nerves, turning my gaze down and away from him as I try to hide my facial expression. “Does it matter? It’s not real.”
“It’s real enough,” he replies.
Is he really worried about my well-being here, or is he trying to get a read on my sexual interests?
“Do you?” I ask, trying to turn the attention back on him.
