“Wonder how the ladies are doing?” Eric opened his box and took a whiff of his food. It overflowed with BBQ chicken, rice, and fries. The fresh salad was somewhere under all that goodness if the bit of green leaf that Keiran assumed was lettuce was anything to go by.

“Pretty damn good, I’d say.” Scott waved his phone. “The ‘gram don’t lie.”

Keiran had checked Remi and Cherisse’s posts all afternoon. His conversation with Cherisse earlier that afternoon had stopped abruptly after she’d sent the photo of their lunch spread, and he’d joked about coming down there.

There’d been a pre-nap selfie of Remi hovering over Cherisse, who had clearly succumbed to the itis—lying on her stomach, hair spilled around her. She was either asleep or on her way there.

remi_d: nap time before party time :P @cherrygoody #somuchfood #birthdaytwin

He always got a kick out of Cherisse’s Instagram name. She used the same name on all her social media and had mentioned how people kept thinking her accounts were porn sites when really, she only showcased food porn. The photo explained the aborted conversation.

He had to stop obsessively checking every update, but he was weak. He’d casually walked away from Eric and Scott as he scrolled, giving the illusion that he was taking scenery shots with his phone. Cherisse had posted a photo all dolled up, hair fluffed up in some kind of up-do, neck encased in a lacy black choker. He was so used to seeing her with her hair down that whenever she put her hair up, he zoomed right in on her neck. Knowing now that it was one of her zones didn’t help. The way she squirmed when he nibbled at her throat right there...

“Daaamn, face beat to perfection on this one,” Scott said, peering down at Keiran’s phone. Jesus, he’d been so engrossed in the photo he hadn’t even realized Scott had come up behind him to mind his business. Not that Cherisse was his business. But she could be. If she wanted that. But he didn’t know what Cherisse wanted. She’d admitted she didn’t know herself, and she’d all but ignored his request to talk. He shouldn’t have pushed.

He closed out of the app and frowned. “Personal space, man. It’s a thing.”

Scott deployed his epic eye-roll. “You just salty you got caught. Whatever, be less obvious then.” The words irked, but Scott was right. He hadn’t tried hard enough to be covert. He should work on that. He still hadn’t told Eric about the kiss or anything else.

“They just posting thirst traps for your ass, and you don’t even know. Sad,” Scott informed, cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Oh, come on. There’s no thirst trap setting.”

“Maybe not intentionally by Cherisse, but when you have Remi “The Mastermind” Daniels as your bestie, I’d say trap’s being set.” Scott held up his finger. “One, I’ll bet my comic book collection that Remi knows all the dirty deets about you and Cherry. Two,” Scott carried on, a second finger joining the first one. “You’ve never been her favorite person because of that rivalry with Maxi back in the day, so I’m certain she’s out there having Cherisse dialing up the sexiness to maximum just to have you panting. You, my friend, are sadly obvious. And, I know you’re about two seconds away from driving to the Avenue to act like you just happened to casually be there to run into them.”