Page 9 of Not Dating Material

“It certainly is not. We need to find this piece of excrement and delete those images from his phone. He has no right to do that, and not only is it morally corrupt, it’s illegal. Could you imagine the public outrage if a man did that to a woman?”

“Yeah, but … I consented to getting naked. You know what people will say.”

“And I also don’t give a hoot what people will say. Naked or not, he took advantage of you. You’re allowed to be pissed at that. We all deserve agency over our own bodies.”

My neck grows hot at the acknowledgment, but it’ll take more than a pep talk for me to agree with her. Externally, at least. Because I do agree with everything she’s saying, but being vulnerable doesn’t fit into the concept of “being a man” that I was raised with. I can recognize that’s about as valid as Xander’s medical anxiety episodes, where his body tricks him into thinking he’s dying, but that doesn’t make it any easier to shift. Habits die hard. Especially when they’ve been beaten into you.

It’s my job to keep my mouth closed about myself and to protect everyone around me.

“You should file charges. This falls under revenge porn,” she says.

“That’s a thing?”

Her lips curl. “It’s not a thing that’s prosecuted anywhere near fairly enough, and with you being a man, there will be stigmas involved, but—”

“No.”

“Seven—”

“I don’t want to go through all that.”

She chews on her bottom lip for a moment, and I recognize that look.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I don’t think we should let this drop.”

“I don’t see a lot of options here.”

“What’s the name of the guy who thought you two were dating?” she asks.

I tell her, and it takes her two seconds to find his social media pages.

“Know where he lives?” she asks.

“If he hasn’t moved, yeah.”

“Then let me swing by my place on the way.”

“You want to go there?”

“Of course I do. We’re going to confront that SOB and make sure he gets his little friend to delete the photos.”

“Elle …”

“Don’t ‘Elle’ me, mister. This bullshit is not being allowed to happen. Not on my watch.”

I love how indignant she’s getting on my behalf. “I don’t see how anything we say will make a difference. I mean, I could tackle him while you delete the photos, but even then—how do we know the guy sent them to Eddie? What if they’re saved to the cloud? There are so many different options these days. They have the images—it’s too late.”

“It’s never too late, come on.”

Elle drags me out to her car, and after stopping by her place for long enough for Elle to tone down her makeup, put on a wig, take out her piercing, and change into a suit that probably costs more than my monthly utilities, we’re on the road again.

“So …” I wave a hand over her. “What’s all this?”

“This is Work Elle. And today, I’m your legal representation.”

“Stuff a duck.”

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