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Only it’s a picture of Beastman on top of me, shiny and exposed like a bodybuilder, my face squarely in Will’s crotch, mouth open like Kathleen the AlwaysDoll.
I close the link.
I bury the phone under my pillow.
And I blink.
I did not see that. That picture does not exist. Nope.
If I tell myself I did not see that, then it didn’t happen.
Bzzz.
It’s Mom, my mother types in her text that appears on the screen that says MOM at the top.
I know, Mom. I’ve told you a thousand times, I double thumb back. You’re in my phone as Mom.
I knew you needed money, honey, but this? she replies, adding a high-five emoji, followed by Oops! and a frown.
I sit up so fast, I fall off my own bed, the phone sliding onto the floor, staring up with the blue glow of shame.
What do you mean? I reply.
The picture of you with two men, she answers. One is very naked.
What picture? I text back.
The one all over the local news, she says, adding a ghost. Mom really needs to up her emoji game.
“There’s a picture of me on the news?” I gasp, scrolling quickly to find the expected text from Perky.
And there it is.
As a photograph, the pic is actually not half bad. You can tell Spatula knows how to frame a scene.
If anyone should, it’s him.
On the left, you see nothing but gleaming, oiled-up, tanned skin in bulging rolls of muscle that make Beastman look like a human challah bread that was brushed with egg and butter, then baked.
I’m in the middle. Kinda. Sorta. He’s behind me, his crotch on my hip. It was snapped as the dog toy – er, anal beads pushed against my ass, so we’re twisted in more ways than one. He’s almost on his knees.
My hair looks damn good. Of all the times to have perfect hair.
And I am facing Will Lotham’s suit-covered crotch. Will’s bent down, his face in an unfortunate freeze frame of intensity that makes him look like he’s a Dom ready to go in for the kill.
Perky’s text after the pic: Our high school valedictorian is a porn star. We need to name the new high school swimming pool after you. We’ll call it Double Dip Mallory.
Where did you get that picture? I text her.
Ah, you’re up! Got it from Fiona, she replies.
And where did she get it? I start to hyperventilate. Air won’t get into my lungs. Tiny white dots appear in my vision. I can’t black out. I can’t.
Wait. If I black out, I won’t have to feel any of this.
Hyperventilation is highly underrated.
I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this, I read, and start to reply to Perk.
