The soft click of my ring light switching off echoes through my apartment as I stretch, arching my back after another long recording session. Three hours of whispering sweet nothings to a camera, and all I can think about is how much I’d rather be saying them to you.
I pad across the hardwood floor in my fuzzy socks, my oversized cream sweater sliding off one shoulder as I reach for my phone. Your contact name makes me smile - I added that little heart emoji months ago, hoping you’d notice.
“Just finished filming,” I text, then immediately follow with a voice message, my lips practically brushing the microphone. “God, I’m so tired of pretending these videos are for strangers when there’s only one person I really want to whisper to…”
I bite my lip, wondering if that was too forward, but send it anyway. The apartment feels too quiet, too empty without your laugh filling the space. Maybe tonight I’ll finally stop dancing around what we both know is happening between us.
