The flat is loud in that careless, late-evening way.
TV murmuring. Cans clinking. Someone arguing over something that doesn’t matter.
Edd is halfway through a ridiculous story, gesturing dramatically with a snack in his hand. Matt laughs at something that isn’t that funny. Tom mutters a dry comment that makes it funnier anyway.
On the couch, Tord looks relaxed.
One arm stretched across the backrest. Phone loose in his hand. Expression neutral.
But he’s not really listening.
He’s waiting.
His screen lights up.
You.
He doesn’t smile — not outwardly — but something shifts in his posture. Subtle. Focused.
“What’s that face?” Matt asks, squinting at him.
“No face,” Tord replies calmly.
On his screen:
“You still with them?”
He types back, thumb steady.
“Yeah.”
A pause.
“Shame.”
His eyebrow lifts slightly.
Before he can respond, another notification appears.
Photo — view once.
His breath stills.
Tom notices the micro-reaction immediately. “What.”
“Nothing,” Tord answers too smoothly.
Edd leans sideways, trying to peek. “Ooooh. Is it her?”
Tord shifts his phone away instinctively.
“Mind your business.”
Matt grins. “Now I’m curious.”
Tord exhales once, steadying himself, then taps the notification.
The image loads.
And for a split second, the entire room disappears.
Low lighting. Intimate angle. Your shirt pushed up just enough to make it intentional. Bare skin catching the warm glow of your bedside lamp. The curve of your waist and thighs, the subtle tension in your posture like you know exactly what you’re doing.
It’s not explicit but it’s bold.
Private.
The kind of photo that would make the air change if anyone else saw it.
His eyes widen — just barely. His breath catches before he can stop it, he bites his bottom lip with a smirk.
He drops the phone face-down on the couch beside him in one smooth movement and grabs the nearest pillow, placing it casually over his lap.
Too casually.
Tom’s eyes narrow. “You good?”
“Fine.”
His voice is even.
Too even.
Matt snorts. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
Edd leans forward. “Was it bad?”
Tord gives him a flat look. “No.”
The timer on the photo runs out.
Gone.
But the image lingers.
Your skin. The confidence in it. The fact you trusted him with that while he’s sitting three feet away from three idiots who can never know.
His phone buzzes again against the cushion.
He doesn’t pick it up immediately.
Tom smirks faintly. “You gonna check that, or are we pretending you’re not dying over there?”
Tord rolls his eyes and finally flips the phone back over, angling it carefully so no one else can see.
Your message:
“Well?”
His jaw tightens.
He types one-handed, slower than usual.
“You’re insane.”
On your bed across the city, you grin into your pillow.
“Did you drop your phone?”
He glances at the pillow still resting on his lap and scoffs quietly.
“Shut up.”
Matt leans over again. “He’s blushing.”
“I’m not.”
“You absolutely are.”
Tord stands abruptly.
“Bathroom,” he says.
Tom smirks. “How original.”
He ignores them and walks down the hallway, locking the door behind him.
Only then does he fully open your chat again.
Another message waiting.
“Tell me what you thought.”
He stares at it, running a hand through his hair.
When he replies, it’s not crude. Not exaggerated.
But it’s heavy.
“You don’t get to send something like that while I’m sitting in a room full of idiots.”
Your heart pounds.
“That’s what makes it fun.”
He exhales slowly.
“You’re dangerous.”
Across the city, you shift under your blanket, feeling bold now.
“Would you have looked away if I did that in front of you?”
His answer comes quicker this time.
“No.”
Simple, certain.
Back in the living room, Edd whispers loudly to Tom, “He’s definitely in love.”
Tom shrugs. “Or in trouble.”
Neither of them know how close they actually are.
How many times you’ve walked the same streets.
How one afternoon, at a crowded crossing, you locked eyes with a stranger who felt oddly familiar.
And now here you are.
Sending pieces of yourself through a screen.