Soft.
Mine.
Eris doesn’t respond immediately.
She just stands there, calm and unflinching as she reads my message. Then she drops her phone onto the bed and reaches for the green dress, slow and purposeful, like she’s letting me see her decision before she makes it.
I exhale through my teeth, nearly whistling as I watch her remove her hoodie, exposing her bare skin beneath.
Her grin deepens into something playful yet dangerous, a wolf teasing the rabbit.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
She’s becoming someone else right in front of me.
Someone bolder.
Someone aware of her power.
And I’m starting to think we aren’t the only ones watching.
She’s watching us now too.
Who am I talking to?
I know it’s not Whisper. But which of the other two is it? I can’t yet be sure. The tone of the messages are low and deliberate, quiet like someone holding their breath because they don’t trust what might come out if they exhale.
Still, I keep flirting.
I like the edge of it. Safe enough to know I have both feet on the ground, but close enough to danger to feel alive.
I stand in front of the mirror, brushing my hair out of my face as I admire my form in the fitted green dress Roo swears makes me look like a knife someone would beg to be cut with. And I can’t disagree. It hugs me in a way that makes me feel powerful and provocative.
My phone buzzes on the counter, and I smirk as I open the HimLock app.
Locke:
Still thinking about me?
Eris:
You’ve got a one-track mind.
Locke:
Only when it comes to you.
Are you really going out tonight?
I’d rather you stay home so I can keep watching you.
I hesitate, but it doesn’t last more than a moment. My best friend is dolled-up, all glitter and leather, and she won’t let me back out.
Eris:
Roo is dragging me out into the world. Apparently, I need expensive tequila and touchable regrets.
She wants me to stop “sexting the algorithm.”
