Chapter two

The sun was brutal, the kind of heat that made your back sweat the moment you stepped outside. I had barely reached campus when Zara appeared beside me, swinging her braids over one shoulder like she was in a hair commercial.

“You look like someone’s guilty conscience,” she said, squinting at me through her tinted shades.

“I slept late.”

Zara gave me a knowing look. “Was it the mystery man again?”

I paused.

She grinned. “I knew it. Spill.”

We found our usual spot behind the library—a shady bench away from the main walkways. It was quiet, semi-private, and perfect for the kind of conversations we always had when no one was listening.

I exhaled. “It’s getting weird, Zara. He said something last night and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Zara leaned forward like I just told her I kissed a celebrity.

“What’d he say?”

“He said… maybe we’ve already met.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Wait—what?! Girl, that’s not weird. That’s hot. Like, soulmates-in-secret hot.”

“Or stalker-level creepy,” I muttered, picking at the edge of my notebook.

Zara laughed. “You’re overthinking it. This guy clearly wants you. And you—you like it.”

“I do,” I admitted softly. “But… it feels risky now. I used to feel anonymous. Now I feel… seen.”

She nudged me with her elbow. “So let him see more.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Photos.”

I stared at her like she just suggested I sell a kidney. “Absolutely not.”

Zara rolled her eyes. “Relax. I’m not talking about full nudes. Just something subtle. Suggestive. Leave a little to the imagination, you know?”

“I’ve never sent a picture to anyone,” I whispered, suddenly hyper-aware of every student walking by.

“Exactly,” she said. “That’s why it’ll drive him crazy. Imagine him seeing you, like, really seeing you. Give him a visual to match the fantasy.”

I bit my lip, thinking. I hated how much I was considering it.

“No face,” I said finally. “If, and that’s a big if, I ever do this, my face stays out.”

Zara threw her arms up like I just passed an exam. “Yes, girl! That’s the spirit!”

“But I didn’t agree to anything....”

“Too late. I already have ideas.” She pulled out her phone and opened P*******t. “Okay, listen. First, wear something lacy. Preferably red or black. But not too much, show just enough to get his blood pressure up.”

I groaned. “I can’t believe I’m listening to you.”

“Trust me, I was born for this,” she said, scrolling through photos like it was a mission. “Ooh, this one. Crop top and shorts. Back camera. Light behind you. Artsy, but still hot.”

She angled her phone toward me.

It wasn’t… bad. Sexy in an understated way. No face. Just curves and shadows. I could maybe pull that off.

“I don’t have anything like that,” I said.

“You have me,” she smirked. “And I have wardrobe options.”

Before I could protest, she had me half-convinced and was dragging me across campus after lectures ended. We didn’t go home immediately—she led me to her cousin’s place nearby who had a mirror, better lighting, and a drawer full of options.

By the time I stood in front of the mirror in her cousin’s room, wearing a fitted black crop top and low-rise shorts, I could barely recognize myself.

“You look like trouble,” Zara said proudly, holding up my phone.

“I feel like I’m about to make a terrible mistake.”

“Too late. Turn around. Arch a little. Perfect.”

Click.

She showed me the photo. It was tasteful. Confident. Powerful. Somehow still me… just a version of me I didn’t know existed.

My heart pounded.

“You don’t have to send it,” Zara said softly. “But if you do… he won’t forget it.”

I nodded slowly, holding the phone like it might burn through my skin.

---

Later that night, back in my bedroom, I stared at the picture for a full five minutes.

It wasn’t raunchy. It was suggestive. Teasing. Empowering, even.

My thumb hovered over the message field.

What would he think? Would he lose his mind? Would he ignore it? Would he say something I’d never forget?

My chest rose and fell as I finally typed:

> [Me]: Thought you might want a visual tonight…

Then I attached the image.

Sent.

And at that moment i realized i had sent the photo with my face by mistake.

"Oh no......

Immediately, I wanted to yank it back. Throw my phone out the window. Delete my existence.

But I didn’t.

I waited.

The little “Delivered” icon turned blue.

Then the typing dots appeared.

And stayed there.

Typing...