Chapter 25 #3
Then there are the photos with varying degrees of shirtlessness, and I linger for more than a few seconds on a couple where it’s obvious he’s completely naked behind the camera.
Only the frame cuts out the important bits.
Unsurprisingly, those are the ones with the highest level of engagement.
Luke chuckles as he sees which photos pique my interest, but I don’t mind.
He knew what he was doing, posting these for the world to see, and I am but a simple man.
Beyond the modelesque photos dominating his feed, he also documents his life with little snapshots of where he is or what he’s doing, creating a story without words.
I can see how his time in New York was full of fun, friends, and so much love and light, that I feel an unexpected pang of jealousy.
If these pictures truly represent the kind of life he’s had so far, I really don’t think I can meet him at his level.
His entire world is made of color, and I don’t know how to offer him that same radiance.
I try to shake it off as I keep scrolling.
There are quite a few pictures of his cat curled up and sleeping in various places in his apartment or staring at the camera with her beautiful blue eyes, and Luke makes a sad noise whenever he sees her pop up on the screen, pawing at the phone.
I imagine he misses her terribly, given how prevalent she shows up.
I feel worse remembering how he had to leave her behind when he came back here.
Going further back, there are a bunch of pictures of a guy I can only assume is an ex-boyfriend by the sudden drop-off of content containing his face about a year ago.
Luke confirms it when he notices me pause on one or two of them together.
His name was Armando, and they dated for about two years before Luke caught him hooking up with one of his presumed ex-boyfriends, only to find out he’d been two-timing both of them the whole time. I’m flabbergasted.
But what shocks me most is finding hints of me in Luke’s perfectly curated story.
I can tell by the pictures Luke’s taken more recently that he has been documenting our entire relationship between his infuriatingly beautiful selfies.
At first, I wonder if I’m reading into it, but it’s unmistakable before long.
To anyone else looking at these photos, they’d seem like average pictures of landscapes or artsy images of things he’s been doing.
I recognize them immediately as having deeper significance.
Our story is right there for everyone to see, and yet, no one would ever know that’s what it was.
There are pictures of some of the fancy cocktails we ordered last night, edgy shots of the bars themselves, and then, mysteriously, one of Luke’s and my hand clasped together on my lap.
I never even saw him taking the picture.
Then, there’s the statue I compared him to at the DIA, more of our clasped hands again as we walked through the museum, followed by the poster outside of Orchestra Hall showing Yo-Yo-Ma as the principal musician for the evening.
The camping trip up north makes an appearance as well.
First, he’s posed like a rumpled mess on the air mattress we’d just had sex on for the first time, showing off my hoodie almost like a trophy.
That one makes me feel some kind of way.
There’s the cave we’d made out in for a few solid minutes on our kayaks, a shot of the beach with our two sets of footsteps walking along the shore, and finally, the piece of driftwood I’d tripped over on the night I’d first kissed him—though he must have gone back to it the next day since the photo was obviously taken during the day.
It's all right there.
Clearly, Luke is very open about his life and how he’s living it, and I can see he has a deep connection to his social media.
It’s a part of who he is. It’s adorable to think he’s trying to show me off as much as he can, even though no one could guess who he’s spending time with.
Based on the comment section of some of these photos, there’s a lot of speculation about it.
I can’t help but feel like this is Luke’s way of wanting to celebrate being with me on both of our terms, incorporating his wildly public life and my desperately private one.
It gives the whole thing an air of mystery, and the secrecy is actually kind of hot.
My heart swells with emotion, and I can’t help but turn my head to look at Luke with awe.
He smiles sheepishly, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders, but I can see he knows he’s been caught. And now I don’t feel so bad about wanting to sneak a photo of him earlier.
Without a word, I drop the phone on the bed, take his coffee from his hand, and set it down on the side table.
Before he has time to protest, I tackle him, drawing a startled gasp from his lips.
I kiss him fervently, tracing my mouth along his jaw and down his neck, spying the mark on his throat from my handiwork the night before.
Luke chuckles as I swipe my tongue over it, and then he wraps his arms around my neck and pulls me closer.
There are a couple of hours before we need to check out, but I’m not in a rush to go anywhere.