Zac:You’ve got me wrapped around your fucking pinky, you know that?
My mouth stretches with a devilish grin as I skim through my camera roll, searching for the perfect shot. I set the picture’s timer at four seconds. Then I send it, topping it off with a text that reads “Who said anything about my belly button?”
The picture shows a faceless, braless Aveena lying in bed in a thin tank top, the glass of ice water on my nightstand visible in the background. But the real focal points are the outlines of my tight, pierced nipples peeking through the fabric.
Even I have to admit the gold barbell piercings make my girls look damn good—almost makes up for me passing out when the needle went through.
He opens the Snapchat right away.
I can’t move a muscle, holding my breath to the point of light-headedness. We were platonic pen pals up until this point, but this… It could make us rated X.
The three bubbles pop on my screen as he texts back, and the air feels scarce in my lungs, thinning dangerously with each breath.
Zac: Holy fucking shit, L.
Zac:Give a guy a warning, I almost dropped my phone.
I stifle a laugh with my palm.
Love: Sorry?
Zac: It’s fine, just don’t send me a picture like that again.
Embarrassment paints my cheeks bright red.
He wasn’t into it.
Talk. About. Awkward.
Love: I’m so sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.
He texts back before I can blink.
Zac: Uncomfortable?L, the only thing uncomfortable about the picture you just sent are the fucking blue balls it gave me.
Heat stirs up in my stomach.
Well… There goes our platonic relationship.
Love: then why don’t you want me to send pictures again?
Zac: Because if you do, I’m going to break our pact and scour the entire fucking planet until I find you.
I can’t comprehend how hot and bothered his threat makes me. Temptation overrides his warning, and I set out to push his limits to the absolute max, see how far I can go before he breaks his promise. All I need is for him to take the bait.
Love: Does that mean you can’t send me pictures of you…
And he does.
Without hesitation.
Zac: You mean pictures like this?
@TheDorkPolice sent you a Snapchat.
Gulp.
I tap his picture, the blood in my veins boiling like lava as I drink in the scene. I can’t see his face—shocker—but he’s standing in a gloomy room, a faint light fitting his naked, ridiculously toned chest with a defined V.