about keeping things separate

i deleted the pic from my camera roll too

it feels safer to have it in a hidden folder

so what are you doing?

besides losing a fight with insomnia

no

i'm not wearing sweats tonight

definitely not

it's this little black slip

sheer silk

i bought it for myself last year with my own money

no sponsorships

no hashtags

no "link in bio"

i’ve never taken a photo in it, so nobody has ever seen it

i wanted to feel like me

a woman, and not a mannequin for a lingerie company

i put it on because it feels soft against my skin

just for me

and the silk is so thin it feels like water

thinking about you now

my bed feels really big tonight

wishing you were here to help me sleep

maybe i'm tired of keeping all the secrets to myself

it's too quiet here

i hate the quiet

if you were here, maybe it wouldn't be so quiet

maybe i could actually relax

you're bad for my heart rate, Gabriel

try to behave yourself

I have a development.

"Cracked" implies he had a spine to begin with.

He just needed a credible excuse to succumb.

He invited me to his home office tonight. 8:00 PM. Ostensibly to review my paper.

I did some digging.

His wife attends a yoga class at 7:30. She doesn't get back until 9:15.

The window is tight, but sufficient.

I have the arguments prepared. I have the vintage Merlot he pretends to know about. I even read his terrible article on "ethics in the digital age" just to flatter his ego.

By 9:00 PM, I will have him exactly where I want him.

And that is collapsing into my arms out of sheer intellectual relief.

Which brings me to you.

Where do we stand with the Virgin Queen?

Please tell me you have moved past the "holding hands and discussing poetry" phase. It has been nearly a month.

Is she still making you watch obscure nature documentaries?

I am about to cross the finish line, Gabriel. I want to know if you are even on the track.

Send me proof.

A screenshot. A text. A photo.

Anything that proves you have actually compromised her.

Unless, of course, you are failing. In which case, you can just drive my car over to my place tonight and leave the keys in the mailbox.

But do not take too long.

Victory tastes better when we celebrate together.

And I plan on celebrating tonight.

I don't need luck.

you awake?

i was too busy thinking about our talk last night

every time i closed my eyes, i just heard your voice

mainly about how you said we wouldn't be sleeping if you were here

actually

i'm not sorry at all

i think i’m done being sorry for how i feel

i decided to stop being shy, Gabriel

you told me i'm safe with you, right?

that i can just exist without the filters and the captions?

the lighting in my room is perfect right now

it’s that golden hour glow that influencers kill for

and i realized i didn't want to waste it on a post for 50,000 strangers who don't actually know me

i'm tired of the quiet

i'm tired of being alone in this bed, Gabriel

i'm tired of waiting for the "right time"

i'm not performing anymore, Gabriel

i'm asking

i'm hungry

and i'm lonely

i also have way too much coffee for one person

that said, i'm making breakfast

i even have that specific you mentioned once before

the one with orange zest

so...

you have 2 choices

you can stay there and look at your stats notes

or you can come over here and have breakfast with me

just drive...

haven't been able to settle down since you left this morning

i've been sitting here thinking about the first time we talked

how you just

stepped in

i was such a wreck and you didn't even know me

but you stayed

you didn't ask for anything or try to make it about you

that's the problem, Gabriel

at least, not in my world

people show up when they want something

or when the lighting is good

or when there's something to gain

there's always something

and usually, i can see the price tag on a conversation within 5 minutes

but with you...

i keep looking for the catch and i can't find it

it makes me want to scream and it makes me want to never let you go

i'm tired

of sending pics and waiting for bubbles to appear so i can feel like i'm not invisible

of being "Chloe" for everyone else

of the noise and the likes and the pretend versions of myself

of performing

of pretending that 100k followers makes up for having nobody to actually sit next to comfortably

tbh i feel like i'm living my life through a glass wall

i can see everyone and they can see me

but nobody is actually touching

and i’m tired of being alone in this room when the only person i want to be near is on the other side of a phone

i want you to see me

the real me

none of the lighting and poses and filters and curated angles

i’ve never let anyone in this far

i’ve never actually ever wanted to

the thought of it usually makes me want to run as fast as i can in the other direction

but

i don't want to run from you

please come over

i just want you here

hurry