Willow hesitated. He’d gotten used to seeing his big, dumb face on TV and in the paper. He’d mostly accepted it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to show Eden what he looked like after a sleepless night. He glanced at Psycho—there were shadows under his eyes, but the kid still had pretty boy hair and a smooth, non-corpse head. “I dunno.”

“Come on.” Psycho held out a hand. “Photo time.”

Willow sighed, wrapping his arm around his friend, and raising his glass of ice water. The picture came out decent. He looked rumpled but not necessarily terrible. Psycho grimaced. “I look like shit.”

“You get that on the big jobs, mate.”

Willow uploaded the Eden photo and the selfie to Instagram and mucked around with the caption. “What do you think of this? ‘Watched the beautiful @bunnydescent play a killer set last night. Now for a recovery day with @patricknormal’.”

Psycho gave him a thumbs up. “Fire away.”

“I dunno about tagging her though. That’s pretty personal.”

“You’re overthinking it. She’s only got six thousand followers. She’ll rate the exposure.”

“You reckon?”

“Fuck yeah. You’re the big name here. Just tag her, then DM saying you loved the show. If she writes back, ask if she wants to catch up and get fingered in another cupboard. Easy as.”

“You’re making it sound all skeezy.”

“She’s the one who got her mate to ask you to chainsaw her.”

Willow punched his arm. “I don’t chainsaw, I make love with my fingertips like a concert pianist. And don’t talk about my future wife that way.”

“Stop stalling and post the picture.”

With a racing heart, Willow did what he was told. He had over half a million followers and instantly likes and comments rolled in.

Omg, hot—new girlfriend?

New GF?

Don’t tell me you’ve got another girlfriend…

He exited the app, lying back of the couch. “Man, I’m pretty fucked up about all this.”

“Did you DM her?”

“Shit.” Willow went back into Instagram and sent Eden a quick message.

I loved meeting you last night, hope you don’t mind me tagging you.

He hit send and as the message solidified, he realised he’d already told her he loved her. “Fuck.”

He pressed the message, intending to hit ‘unsend’ and paused. Recipients could see you’d unsent a message. What if Eden thought he’d sent something creepy? Nausea rose in his stomach. His post already had ninety-two likes and thirty comments, most asking if Eden was his girlfriend. “Fucking hell.”

Psycho grinned. “I’ll say this, she’s as nuts as you. Fucking in a closet at one of her gigs...”

“Like you’ve never done anything like that.”

“Brah, never.”

Psycho looked so shocked, he laughed. “Try it some time. It’s fun.”

“Whatever. I’m pretty sure I’ll never get hard again.”