He attached the photo, his bare torso visible in the dim gym lighting, and hit send before he could second-guess it. The whoosh sound was barely audible, but he still glanced at Ava, her breathing deep and even.

His fingers moved faster than his brain, caught in the familiar, dangerous rhythm of their late-night conversations. This had become their time. The only time he felt real.

His thumb slammed against the delete button, erasing the dangerous confession before it could fully form. The three dots hovered on his screen as he watched you type a response, his heart hammering against his ribs.

His finger hovered over the send button. He could still type what he really meant. What he'd almost said. What he felt every time he looked at the woman sleeping beside him and wished she were you.