Page 143 of Press Play

Now that is something I can do.

With the phone in his hand, he glances at me with a troublesome smirk. “Wren?”

I side-eye him, not trusting that gleam in his eyes.

“We should watch the video.”

“Why on earth would I want to see my naked ass on camera?”

“Because it’s hot.” Theo winks and inches closer. “You’re not even a little curious?”

I can’t say the thought ever crossed my mind. Sure, I’ve had sexual fantasies, but most of the time, those are in first-person point of view. The only body I imagined was Theo’s, not mine.

But now. . . he has me wondering.

“Let me see,” I murmur.

Theo hands me his phone, and I nestle against his arm. He doesn’t speak as I scroll through the comments. One thing I can say is that Theo has a supportive fan base. Sure, there are the ones begging to film with him, but most of them are simply excited he posted and that he seems happy. One person mentions that the light is back in his eyes, and it piques my curiosity again.

With a heavy exhale, I hover my finger over the play button, trying to steel my nerves. “I can stop it if I get uncomfortable?”

“Of course,” he says without hesitation. “You’re in control.”

I nod and stare at the screen, wanting to start the video, yet too nervous to move. It doesn’t matter what others may think or say. All that matters is that Theo thinks I’m beautiful. He always has.

He grazes his hand over mine. “Love.” He kisses my cheek, inching toward my ear. “Just press play.”

Epilogue Part One

Theo

Two Months Later

Where the heck is it?Wren and I promised Brandy we wouldn’t be late for dinner tonight, and it looks like we’re breaking that promise.

“Wren!” I call out, nose deep in our closet. “Have you seen my hoodie?”

“Which one?” Her voice reaches me from the living room.

“The black one!”

“From high school?”

“What? No. Brandy would set me on fire if I wore that thing.”

“Theo, I can barely hear you,” she laughs. “Can you come here?”

I furrow my brow as I step back into the bedroom. “You seem to hear me just fine. What are you doing any?—”

I nearly stumble over my feet as I cross into the living room.

Wren is sitting on the couch in said hoodie, twirling a loose curl around her finger and smirking at me. “Happy birthday, love.” She crosses her bare legs, and my knees buckle.

“You— fuck.”

Those damn lips morph into a knowing grin. “I found your hoodie.”

I inch forward, needing to be closer. “You did.”

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