Page 57 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
Owen: Coffee? I can be there in twenty minutes.
I start typing. My fingers are shaking.
Me: We need to talk.
It’s the universal text for This is over.
Owen: Ominous. Should I be worried?
He replies instantly. Of course he does.
Me: I’m serious, Owen. Friday night… It was amazing. But it was a mistake.
Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then appear again.
Owen: It didn’t feel like a mistake.
Me: It was. You’re my boss. You’re Harper’s brother. She just called me, Owen. She trusts us.
A long pause.
Owen: I know.
Me: It can’t happen again. We have to be professional. For real this time.
I wait. My heart is pounding against my ribs. Part of me—the reckless, stupid part that loved the way he looked at me in the shower—wants him to fight for me. I want him to say screw the rules, I’m coming over.
But he doesn’t.
Owen: Okay.
One word. Simple. Final.
Owen: If that’s what you want, Tess. Professional.
I stare at the screen until the tears blur my vision.
“It is,” I whisper. “It is what I want.”
I lock the phone and throw it across the couch. It’s the right decision. It’s the safe decision.
So why does it feel like I just broke my own heart?
It’s 11:45 PM, and I can’t sleep.
I toss and turn, kicking off the sheets, then pulling them back up. Every time I close my eyes, I see Owen’s face. I feel his hands on my hips.
I sit up, groaning.
“I need a distraction,” I tell Barnaby, who’s sleeping soundly at the foot of the bed.
I grab my phone. I scroll through Instagram, but it’s just happy couples and brunch photos. I open TikTok, but it’s too loud. My thumb hovers over the Mosaic icon.
The internal alpha build.
We rolled it out to the employees and a closed test group last week. I’ve got a profile, mostly for testing purposes, to check the UI flow. I named my persona Red.
I open the app. The interface is dark, sleek. It feels like a shadow.
