And I’d do anything to confess.
I smirk, dropping onto my bed in a cropped band tee, a lacy thong, and fuzzy green socks. It’s laundry day, and the quilt beneath me is still warm from the dryer. My apartment echoes soft instrumental music I left playing in the living room, drowning out the downtown Bay traffic as the city comes alive.
Eris:
Do you say that to all the girls you monitor through cameras?
Locke:
Only the ones who wear black when they know it makes me weak.
The socks, though? They’re really doing it for me.
They’d look great on the floor.
Or the doorknob.
Eris:
Can you see me rolling my eyes? Or is the effort wasted?
Question… Unrelated to those.
You said you’ve seen me in person. Or one of you did…
Locke:
I have. A few times…
But that’s not a question.
Ask me what you really want to know.
My stomach tightens at his command, and it sort of pisses me off. How does one sentence in an app give me butterflies? I lean against my pillows, stretching my legs out as I glance up at the camera.
Eris:
If I’ve already met you, why do we keep talking here instead of through text messages or phone calls? Or in person…?
Why the app?
The seconds tick by, his reply coming slower this time. I wonder if I’m talking to Whisper since he was flirty until shit got real. I think it’s he who takes more time to be deliberate in his word choice.
Locke:
Because it’s where you trust me most.
And it’s our place.
Here… You never look away.
A shiver slides down my spine, caught somewhere between my risky behavior and the thrill of being hunted. It’s not quite fear or excitement. The emotion is much sharper, like the tip of a knife pressed against my throat.
Before I can second-guess my actions, my fingers are already gliding over the keyboard and hitting send.
Eris:
Then come over.
