Focus, Violet. Ignore him.
But I can only imagine what he’s thinking.
Finally, Sienna straightens up, scrolling through the photos. “I think we got some good ones.”
She passes me the phone, and I’m pleasantly surprised by the results. I don’t look anywhere near as awkward as I thought I did. I actually look…cute. “Thanks, these are amazing.”
When Sienna finally releases me, I head inside to grab some more snacks—and get a little break from that intense, dark gaze. Staring into the pantry, I don’t realize Landon’s followed me in until I hear his voice.
“Violet, what the fuck is this?” he demands, and I look behind me, startled to find him shoving his phone in my face. It’s open to my Instagram account, but I’m so taken aback by his tone—jarring compared to the voice he used on the lounge chair—that I’m not sure how to respond.
“What do you mean?” I manage, panicking for a second, wondering if I got hacked and someone posted something inappropriate on my feed. “It’s my account. Is there something wrong with it?”
His mouth goes tight at the corners. “Have you read the comments on some of these photos?”
“I mean, not recently.”
He points to a few particularly vulgar ones, ones I’d rather ignore than acknowledge, and I can’t help but cringe.
She probably got some fire pussy.
Damn wanted to sleep but now need to fap too.
“Violet, these comments are revolting.”
I shudder, pushing his hand out of my face. “Please. Those are nothing. You should see what people DM me.”
“You mean it gets worse than this?” he asks, forehead creasing.
“It’s social media, Landon,” I say with a helpless shrug. “That’s just how it is.”
“So, you’re telling me you don’t care what these perverts are saying?”
“I just…try not to look at them. Anyone can say anything on the internet. That’s the risk you take when you post, and I accept that.”
“But how can you stand the thought of some creepy asshole jerking off to your photo in his mom’s basement?”
“That thought didn’t even cross my mind until you brought it up just now!” I cry and then shake my head, trying to banish the images he planted there.
“There are stalkers out there—”
“Landon, I have five thousand followers. Not five million. I don’t have any stalkers.”
“You have your address posted on here.”
“No, I tagged the location. Big difference.” His jaw tightens, and I study his face, noting the crease between his brow and the twitch in his cheek. I reach out and rest my hand on his forearm, squeezing it lightly. “Everything’sfine, Landon. I appreciate the concern, but it’s misplaced.”
“I don’t think it is,” he says, voice low. “I don’t think you understand how fucking good you look in these photos, Violet. It’s five thousand now, but it won’t be for long. And you’re just…you’re too trusting.”
How fucking good you look…
If I didn’t have whiplash from his mood swings before, I definitely have it now. He keeps talking, but I barely hear anything he says after that because my mind’s stuck on those five little words. I swear, my voice raises two full octaves when I ask, “You think I look good?”
He snaps his mouth shut, his eyes darkening in a way that makes my stomach dip. And when he takes a step closer to me, that lean, muscled body getting all up in my personal space, I hold my breath in anticipation. Anticipation ofwhat,I have no idea.
“I-”
The door swings open before he can finish. Our heads whip toward the sound, only to find Brit and Jake frozen in place, looking back and forth between Landon and me.
