“The Edits”

The warm glow of the bedside lamp casts soft shadows across the dimly lit room. You’re curled up against the pillows, wearing one of his oversized hoodies, your legs tucked comfortably beneath the blankets. The quiet hum of the bathroom fan signals that he’s still in there, getting ready for bed.

You’re absentmindedly scrolling through TikTok when something catches your eye—an edit.

An edit of him.

The screen is flooded with clips from Monsters—his sharp jawline, the way his lips part when he delivers a devastating line, the slow-motion effect making every little glance look ten times more intense. The audio is something ridiculous, some sultry remix that makes it all the more dramatic.

You bite your lip, suppressing a grin. Just one more.

Or… maybe a few more.

You’re so absorbed in the endless stream of edits that you don’t notice the bathroom door opening. Don’t hear the soft padding of his bare feet against the carpet. But you do hear the sudden clearing of a throat.

Your heart stutters.

Slowly, so slowly, you look up.

He’s standing there, arms crossed, towel slung over his shoulder, wearing nothing but sweatpants that hang just right on his hips. His damp hair is tousled like he’s just run his hands through it, and his expression is somewhere between amused and seriously?

“Are you seriously watching edits of me while I’m right in front of you?”

Your breath catches.

“…No.”

His brow lifts, gaze flicking to your phone.

You instinctively clutch it to your chest. “Okay, maybe.”

His smirk deepens as he stalks toward the bed, tilting his head slightly. “Do I need to start competing with my own edits now?”