Page 57 of Forecheck
We spent the next several minutes selecting which photos to post—there weren’t many to choose from at this stage, something I vowed to change—and drafting the perfect caption.
“Okay, one more time,” I said.
Berkley laughed. “How are you suddenly more nervous than me right now?”
“Well, I’ve never gone public with a girlfriend, so that’s uncharted territory. And, no offense, Blondie, but I have over a million followers. My DMs are going to blow up.”
“Yeah well I have over fifty thousand,” she said, sticking her tongue out at me.
I chuckled. “You know that number is about to change, right? Drastically.”
She nodded solemnly. “Nothing will ever be the same.”
“It’s not too late to go private…”
“No,” she said firmly. “We’re doing this together. It’s going to be an adjustment, but I’m ready.”
“I’m sorry, Berk. You know I never wanted to be a distraction or a problem for you.”
“You’re not,” she assured me. “Things were bound to change eventually, right?”
“Right,” I agreed. “Now did you decide which photos?”
With a sigh, Berkley leaned close and tapped into my favorites album. Each shot she wanted me to post was perfectly lined up, and I had to admit—we were a damn good looking couple.
The first was a blurry, overexposed one from Halloween. Then there was a candid one of me lifting Berkley into a hug after that Warriors’ game she’d come to after our first date, a selfie of us cuddled in bed the morning of New Year’s Day, and a few other random cheesy selfies and candids we’d taken since.
“This one is my favorite,” Berkley said, scrolling back to the one of us in bed.
I met her gaze, my breath catching when I saw the way she looked back, like I hung the moon. Cupping the back of her head, I pressed a kiss to her temple, silently vowing to protect her at all costs.
“You’re my favorite,” I whispered against her hair.
Berkley giggled. “We’ve officially become the kind of couple I used to make fun of.”
“And what kind is that?”
“The super cheesy kind who can’t keep their hands to themselves in public.”
“I can’t help it if you’re incredibly touchable,” I told her, dipping my head to kiss her mouth this time. “Do you have any idea how soft your lips are?” I brushed my thumb over her plump bottom lip. “And I don’t just mean these ones.”
“Brent!” With a laugh, she shoved me away.
“Are you ready?”
“No,” she answered, and I was surprised by her honesty. But also not? Berkley had never held anything back with me, and I didn’t want her to start now, not when things were going from simply labeling our relationship behind closed doors to social media official. “But for you…I’m willing to do this thing that scares me.”
“It’ll be okay,” I said. “I promise.”
“I know,” she said, lips tipping up at the corners. “I trust you.”
With those words, I shared the post, and instantly, Berkley’s phone pinged with the notification.
I’d captioned the post, “Yeah, Blondie is mine,” and Berkley looked at me in awe, as if she couldn’t quite believe she was here with me.
The feeling was mutual.
We grinned stupidly at each other, sitting on a cold bench along Woodward, snowflakes lazily floating around us, glinting in the streetlights.
