Page 67 of Press Play

“You’re not the girl you once were,” I say, hoping she gets the hint.

“You’re speaking in riddles.”

After zipping the hoodie, I tug on the drawstrings, and she loses her balance.

Our noses brush, and fuck, does my heart stutter.

I lower my voice so only she can hear me. “You’re not swimming in your clothes anymore. You filled out, and while I appreciate your beauty, I don’t trust anyone in this room to do the same.”

I reach toward her, tracing her jawline with my knuckles, and her cheeks turn red.

“I can handle myself,” she whispers back.

She grasps the zipper, but I place my hand over hers, stopping her. “Please, do me this one favor.”

Wren clicks her tongue and pokes it against her cheek. “Okay.”

With her arms over her chest, I snake my arm around her waist and hold her close as we approach the booth my friends are in.

“There you are,” Oliver hollers and takes a swig of his beer.

“We were starting to wonder if you got lost.” Henry’s eyes dance over Wren, but she doesn’t cower from his gaze.

“Hi, I’m Wren.” She extends her hand to him.

“We don’t shake hands where I come from. How about a kiss?” He puckers his lips, and I dig my fingernails into my palm.

“Cut it out, Henry,” Mark says as he stands. “Hi, I’m Mark. It’s lovely to meet you.”

He and Wren shake hands, and when he sits, he pats the spot beside him. Before I can interject, Oliver pulls me down, forcing Wren and me on different sides of the table.

“Is there a reason why you’re late?” Henry asks while wiggling his eyebrows.

“Don’t be an ass,” I hiss.

“I wouldn’t blame you—Ow! Dude, what the fuck?” Oliver winces and rubs the bicep I punched.

“Can you be polite for two minutes?” I grumble.

“Mark, can you back me up?” Oliver asks, but he doesn’t respond. “Mark?”

I wouldn’t say I’m an envious guy. I never got jealous if any of my girlfriends had guy friends or if someone flirted with them. It’s hard to get under my skin, but Mark found a way to fester under it and leave a scar.

Were they talking the entire time? Why is she laughing? Mark’s a nice guy, but he’s far from funny. And why are they smiling so much?

“Wren?” I try to interrupt, but she doesn’t give me the time of day.

“Careful, Torres. Looks like someone’s trying to steal your girl.”

My girl.

No one has ever said those two words together about Wren and me. I only dared call her mine in my head, and the thought was always enough to leave me feeling weightless. But I’m far from weightless at this moment. It’s like a magnet is in my chest, and its companion is in the earth’s core. I’m being pulled under, and the darkness is suffocating.

Not wanting to drown, I take a deep breath and say, “Mark? How was your session the other night?”

His blue eyes meet mine, and his entire posture stiffens. Unlike me, Mark doesn’t show his face in his videos. He likes to keep a low profile. Most of his videos are of him jerking off, but the other night, he participated in a threesome. And knowing Wren, she’s about to embarrass the living shit out of him with all her questions.

“You record too?” she starts. “Wait, do you guys as well?” she asks the rest of the group.

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