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Is it still called self-control if I outsource it?

Dear Lord, my composure was crumbling.

Buzz.

Quinn: I just realised something. If you’re precise and I’m enthusiastic… Does that make us well-rounded?

The dam burst, and I laughed out loud, a sharp, involuntary sound that echoed in the enclosed space.

The studio door opened and Theo stood there, his eyes wide.

“You laughed.”

“Not me,” I lied. “You’re hearing things.”

He rolled his eyes. “How long have I known you? And I can’t remember the last time I heard you laugh like that.”

I regained my self-control. “Go back inside. I’ll be in there in a minute.” I waited until the door closed before focusing on my phone.

Max: That one was acceptable.

Three dots appeared instantly.

ACCEPTABLE. I’m framing that.

I didn’t fight the smile. Don’t encourage yourself.

Too late. If you ever run out of ways to distract me, I can provide suggestions. I am full of them. None are helpful.

Three dots…

Tell me I made you laugh.

Warmth flooded my chest as I typed. You did. Gold star.

Quinn: Gold star? We’re talking a gold medal at least. Is this a first?

I snorted as I typed. You have a short memory. I laughed during our first scene. Remember? When your knee collided elegantly with my dick. Twice.

Three dots…

I *had* forgotten. Damn, I’m good.

I smiled and sent my final message. Goodnight Quinn.

I had never stepped into something without a map before, but for the first time, I was beginning to understand why people did. The ground beneath my rules was shifting. I’d built those rules to keep myself steady.

Tonight, I was walking willingly toward the edge of them.

I didn’t plan on turning back.

Quinn

I lay on my bed, staring at the phone screen, and grinning.

I did it.

A soft knock at the door broke into my thoughts. “Come in, I’m decent.”