Page 261 of Sweet Nightmare

Motherfucker.

I swipe.

A photo of my arm around her waist.

Another of her face tilted back in pleasure.

One of my mouth against hers.

I stop swiping.

Mrs. Han makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a scream.

“You and my pretty girl are everywhere!”

“Fuck,” I whisper still looking down at the photos on the phone.

“Internationally, Stephen!”

Damn it.

How did this happen?

They can write whatever the fuck they want about me.

They can have my name.

My reputation.

My past.

My face plastered across every newspaper in the country.

But Artemis?

Fuck, no.

Mrs. Han snatches her phone back, jolting me out of my murderous thoughts. “Someone has reposted a slowed down version of the dirty video with one of your songs playing over it, boy!”

I stare at her for a moment before pulling out my own phone from my pant’s pocket.

I open my social media and start scrolling.

More photographs. More videos. More strangers picking apart a moment that was never meant for their eyes.

“Fuck.”

I tap on the comments, and with every word I read, the rage inside me coils tighter. It coils low in my stomach, slow and vicious, tightening with every new photograph I find. The fact that the video and images are censored does absolutely nothing to ease it. Neither do the blurred faces, the cropped frames, or the careful little edits meant to make the footage suitable for public consumption. They’ve taken a moment that belongs to us and turned it into entertainment.

My grip tightens around my phone.

Now strangers are watching her and replaying her.

My jaw clenches.

I finally lift my eyes to Mrs. Han.

“I’ll handle it.”