Chapter 25 #2
I’m gripped with a disastrous need to get a picture of this moment, if I can even do it justice. Setting the drinks down on the table, I pull out my phone and turn on the camera, but the moment I do, Luke stretches on the bed, ruining the perfect shot.
“No, wait!” I cry, holding out my hand dejectedly.
Luke freezes, looking up at me with confusion and a modicum of concern, and all at once, I feel silly.
I don’t want to admit what I was trying to do.
It’s one thing sneaking a picture while he’s not aware of it, but another to be caught in the act.
Is that even allowed? Or is it just creepy? It feels borderline creepy.
“Never mind,” I say instead, shaking my head.
“What is it?” Luke rubs at his face.
“It’s nothing. Forget it.”
“Ethan.” Luke sighs, giving me a stern look. “What is it?”
I bite my lower lip, gingerly holding up the phone in my hand. “It was just the lighting…and the way you were lying. I was gonna get a picture.”
Luke seems surprised but not upset as he lets out a little chuckle, glancing down at himself on the bed. He looks out the window before settling back down onto the pillows, smiling. “Okay. Is this right?” he asks, trying to put himself back in the same position he’d moved from.
I stare at him blankly for a minute, my brain slowly processing what just happened before snapping back to my senses. He’s waiting for me to continue.
Luke’s a willing model, taking direction with grace and ease as I make minor adjustments. After I feel confident that the shot is perfect—maybe even better than before—I snap the photo.
Luke immediately demands to see it, grabbing his glasses from the side table, and I pick up our coffees on the way to the bed. Sitting down next to him, I pass him his drink and the phone, and his jaw immediately drops with an unmistakable look of surprise.
“Holy fucking shit, Ethan.” He grins. “Holy shit. I didn’t know you were a photographer.”
“I’m really not,” I say sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck. “I just like taking pictures.”
“Excuse me.” Luke scoffs. He starts pinching and zooming in and out on the photo, studying every detail down to the letter. “This is beautiful. The composition? The lighting? The pose? Fuck. Can I post this, actually?”
“What?” My eyebrows shoot up with the request.
“On Instagram. It’s a really good picture.”
“Oh, I… Uh. I mean, I guess? You really like it that much?”
“This is art.” Luke smiles, his eyes bright, and my cheeks warm with the compliment.
Luke sends the picture to himself, then quickly taps away on his own phone, saving and uploading the photo before I’ve even registered he’s doing it.
He then turns the screen to me and shows me the image at the top of his Instagram feed under the handle @lukewarmincolor.
I take the phone from his hands and click on his profile, the account picture catching my eye.
He’s striking a dramatic pose in the middle of Times Square with a rainbow folding fan over his head.
But my jaw drops as I notice the follower count beside it.
“You have ten thousand followers?” I balk. “I thought you said you weren’t famous.”
“That’s nothing.” Luke scoffs. “Well, I mean, it’s not ‘nothing.’ Technically, I’m a little famous, but only in very small circles. Definitely not famous, famous. Sort of a niche following, if you will. Other queer artists and actors, mostly.”
I stare at the picture I took at the top of the screen, up and live for the world to see. It’s already got twenty-five likes and ten comments, mostly from people loving how beautiful Luke is, which—same. But it’s only been up for less than a minute.
Now that I have this treasure trove in my possession, I can’t stop myself from going through the rest of his profile to see what other photos he’s posted.
Luke doesn’t seem to mind, scooching over to rest his chin on my shoulder as I scroll.
He gets comfortable and sips his coffee, watching me with a sort of bemused smile, like he finds it endearing that I’m curious about him.
It might be silly, but I’ve never seen this side of Luke before, and I am curious.
His Instagram isn’t private, but I never thought to find it before now—mostly because I don’t use it myself.
Or any social media, really. My Facebook is ancient, and one could reasonably assume I died with how little activity it’s seen since 2010.
I only joined TikTok two weeks ago because Luke kept sending me so many videos that it was easier to interact with them on the app.
Clearly, Luke is not only incredibly active on this platform, but he’s also curated an entire internet persona that’s popular and sought after. It’s not surprising to see why. He’s a walking thirst trap.
There are thousands of pictures of him posing in various locations, some brooding and melancholy, others glowing and energetic—even more still looking downright sultry.
I recognize the selfie of him sitting in my truck when I’d let him borrow it, and then there’s one I’ve never seen of him posing in front of the new truck.
He looks like a modern cowboy in his dark wash denim jeans, work boots, and Ray-Ban sunglasses.