Nudes

Jeremy hadn’t texted me in six days. At the end of our last date he dropped me off on the doorstep and I told him I was not comfortable with him coming upstairs. He said we didn’t have to do anything sexual, that we could just talk. I told him there were dirty dishes in my sink and piles of laundry everywhere. He said he understood, gave me a chaste kiss on the lips, and vanished.

At first I didn’t worry. He watched every story I posted on Instagram and even liked a photo of me drinking a glass of champagne with my girlfriends at happy hour. But days passed. I started checking to see who viewed my stories right after I uploaded them. If he was one of the first fifteen people who watched one of my videos I would spend hours wondering if it meant he still liked me.

After six days without any contact, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I was laying in bed, watching a story Jeremy posted about his failed attempt to make grilled cheese in his toaster. He had burnt the bread. The video began with a shot of the charred sandwich, flipped to a close-up of Jeremy’s face, and went back to the sandwich again. Jeremy asked his followers: “Is this edible?”

I tapped on the text bubble on the bottom of the video that would let me send him a direct message. I sent him a surprised face emoji. A small “seen” popped up below it.

I waited for him to respond. A minute passed. I went back to my feed. I scrolled down to a picture Kylie Jenner posted. She was wearing an orange bikini, her head thrown back so her facial expression was not visible. Her body was perfect.

I returned to my conversation with Jeremy. He still hadn’t responded. I decided to send him something else.

I’m jealous of your sandwich, is that sad? My fridge is empty.

Another “seen.”

I’m bored lying in bed right now, I added.

In lingerie.

Three dots that meant he was typing appeared.

Lingerie? Jeremy wrote.

Pics? He asked.

I was in sweatpants. In my dresser I had a couple bra and pantie sets that I supposed could be considered sexy. I slipped out of my sweats, put on a pair, and returned to my bed.

I lay down on my comforter, raised my phone above my head, and took a picture. I sat up, wrapping one of my arms around my body. The pose pushed my breasts up and hid my stomach at the same time. I took another shot. I lowered my camera and scrolled through the images. The second photograph was the best, so I opened it in my Airbrush app.

I zoomed in on my face. I used the “smooth” feature to get rid of the line between my eyebrows. I clicked on “sculpt” and decreased the size of my chin. I reduced the width of my cheeks.

I raised the tip of my nose and made my lips fuller. I zoomed in on my waist and saw even with my arm covering my stomach, it was too big. I clicked on “reshape” and pulled the edges in. I saved the photo to my library.

I returned to my conversation with Jeremy. I tapped the image of a camera at the bottom of the DM thread, and paused.

At the end of our second date, Jeremy fetched my jacket from a coat check. He shook his head when I reached for it. “Hold out your arms,” he told me. He put it on slowly, making sure my wrists went properly through the sleeves.

I selected the edited photo and sent it to him.

Three minutes passed before Jeremy responded.

Hot, he wrote, followed by a fire emoji.

I smiled.