Disclaimer: I own nothing!

A/N: There are a few Easter eggs in this chapter – notice any of them?

Have a great week, everyone! :)

POV?

There isn't enough beer or Xanax in the motherfucking world to keep me sane as I finish scrutinizing your yearbooks, love.

I just finished my second beer.

And I shouldn't drink anymore because I am picking you up in a few hours.

But… Fuck.

It's bad enough that you and Manbun, obviously, have some weird-ass mystical connection to each other.

Your relationship with him is so… easy.

Can we have that, too, Bella?

I know how you respond to me.

You get giddy, don't you? And you always blush the most beautiful shade of pink.

I can make you blush darker shades of red, if you want.

Tomatoes always blush when they see the salad dressing.

You're the tomato.

And I'm the salad. Except, with no dressing.

I reach down and adjust the uncomfortable tightening that's happening in my jeans.

It's like you've casted a spell on me.

Well, bibbidi-bobbidi-fucking-boo to me.

Cast all the spells you want, love.

When Cinderella got to the ball, she gagged.

And I can take you to the ball, too, if you want…

Shit, I am getting distracted again.

How do you do this to me, love?

I'm usually a poised, meticulous, chivalrous gentleman.

Ha! Who am I fucking kidding?

I'm a goddamn horndog with a hankering for you.

All of you.

Focus, I scold myself.

As I flip through your yearbooks, I notice you aren't in the ones from your freshman and sophomore years… You must have moved from somewhere?

Ah, yes. You did.

In your junior yearbook, there is a page dedicated entirely to you.

You moved here from Arizona, the text says.

All the pictures are of you smiling shyly, and I feel my heart flutter as butterflies fill my stomach.

You are ferociously beautiful.

I feel those butterflies spread throughout my body, as if solidifying the love and adoration I feel for you.

Ugh, that was mushy as fuck.

But still true, nonetheless.

I continue flipping through the yearbook. Nothing else except your class photo.

You weren't much of a joiner in high school.

Which makes sense because you are adorably clumsy, love.

I bet you and recreational activities don't mix well.

I don't bother opening up your senior yearbook again. I already saw what I needed in there yesterday – you standing beside some baby-faced, lackluster, prissy jerkoff. The two of you were voted most likely to get married.

Give me a fucking break.

I imagined, for a second, how it would feel to pulverize Babyface's weak little skull.

God damn, I really needed another beer.

I take a deep breath and reach for your phone across the table.

It's a good thing I turned off Find my iPhone because your phone is still working just fine. You haven't suspended your service yet, or it's still working through Wi-Fi.

I click on your messages.

I scroll through to see who you have text messages with.

Someone named Alice.

Manbun.

Mom.

Dad.

Someone named Quil. Oh yeah, that's Manbun's roommate.

I keep scrolling.

Fucking Babyface!?

I almost throw your phone across the room.

The two of you still talk!?

I click on that conversation first. I scroll all the way to the top and start reading because I'm a damn masochist.

You must have deleted your messages recently because there aren't too many between the two of you.

Basically, just small talk, so I calm down as I read through them.

Until I get to a conversation from a few days ago:

I miss making you moan my name. Babyface said to you.

As if that isn't already making me see red, your response is what kills me; it feels like you ripped my heart out of my chest and demolished it with a damn jackhammer before lighting it on fire.

Oh, I miss that, too. ;)

Babyface asked you to call him after you sent that message.

My imagination goes fucking berserk as I envision what happened while the two of you were on the phone together.

That was just a few days ago.

A few fucking days ago!

I wish I knew where Babyface lived. Was he here? Was I going to meet his sorry little infantile ass at Manbun's party tonight?

From the context of your text messages, it seems like Babyface lives somewhere else.

But you've fucked him before.

And you're still sexting/having phone/video sex or whatever with the fucking pansy now.

I flinch at the thought.

Him making you moan his name, love!? Really!?

I throw your phone down on the table and push myself up. I start pacing.

There's only one fucking difference between Babyface and Hitler.

Hitler knew when to off himself.

You. Are. Mine!

I bet his dick matches his pre-pubescent face.

And he has the kind of face that makes pro-lifers change sides.

Did I even have a therapy session today!?

I was gonna have to double up with Shrinky next week.

Emotional regulation is not my strong suit with you, love.

You really know how to fire me up in every way possible.

So much for working on letting go of control.

I take a few deep breaths and grab your phone again while I continue pacing.

That was all of your conversation with Babyface.

The message from Quil was just an invitation to the party tonight.

Your mom's messages are kind of long and erratic, and you're almost always helping her with something. There's no information about you there except that you are very parentified.

Your dad's messages are really short and are only regarding essential things.

I click on Manbun's conversation and scroll to the top.

So far, you text him the most which makes my blood boil again.

The two of you text each other memes, pictures, and talk about classes and work.

Pretty innocent, actually.

Except that you call him "your sun."

What the fuck does that even mean?

I hope that you two just have a Jo March/Laurie Laurence relationship thing and nothing more.

Like best friends, maybe?

Ugh, but does Manbun want more than that? Do I have to compete with him, too? Did the two of you used to date?

I roll my eyes as I read the message he sent you yesterday while you and I were studying at the coffee shop together:

Hey, what's the SOS code in case you want to escape from your new admirer?

How about just, 'SOS'?

Haha, okay. All good so far?

Yes… I like him, Jake.

He seems odder than Britney in 2007, but whatever makes you happy, Bells.

Manbun is a fucking prick. I still don't like him. But he seems very important to you… Damn, I am gonna have to play nice with him a while longer.

I also get the sense that he is fiercely loyal and protective over you.

But, let's get back to the best part of this conversation – you saying that you like me!

It was like all my anger melted away when I'd read that, love!

I like you, too.

Well, no; that's not powerful enough. I love you.

Next, I click on the conversation with whoever Alice is.

As I scroll through your conversation, I am able to identify that Alice is the girl I saw in your apartment the other day – "Pixie."

Pixie talks to you a lot about clothes and make-up, which you don't really relate to.

Pixie also talks to you about her boyfriend, Jasper. At least I don't have to compete with her, too, God damn.

As I'm scrolling through, I notice an interesting text message that you sent her a couple days ago.

You tell her that you miss Babyface.

I go check the date on the sexting messages with him.

Yeah, this text to Pixie is the day after that sexting debacle.

Damnit!

Ugh, he was so not right for you, Bella! Pixie said.

Alright, I'm liking Pixie so far.

I know, I know… We kind of hooked up last night.

What!? How do you hook up with someone that lives across the country?

Virtually... You responded.

Alright, so Babyface doesn't fucking live here. That's a good thing. But…

You are sexting/having video sex with him!? Motherfucker! I start shaking as I pace even more erratically around my apartment.

I want your body to belong only to me!

I can make you cum way harder than he ever has with his microscopic baby dick, Bella.

Why is Santa's sack so big?

Because he only cums once a year.

I bet Babyface has only made you cum once, or maybe never at all.

I can change that, love.

I bet I know your body better than you do.

Pixie responded, Aw, Bella. You need to meet someone here. What about the cutie that saved you the other day when you were walking to your car?

Fuck yeah. Pixie and I were going to be good friends.

I take back my hopes for her to get eaten by that bear.

Now, I just yearned for Manbun and Babyface to get mauled, but Pixie was safe. For now, anyway.

Well… He's cute and all, but he's kind of intense.

You think I'm "intense"?

Fuck, is this what Shrinky was getting at earlier today with the control shit?

Okay, I can take it down a few notches for you, love. Whatever you need. Just, please, don't give up on me.

You need space? I can give you space.

Ugh, but not too much space.

I want you to run to me when you're feeling horny.

Not small-dick-McGee, AKA Babyface.

How is he intense? Pixie asked.

It's hard to explain… The way he watches me, the way he makes me feel off-balance… It's like he's ready to swoop in and rescue me… or kidnap me, who knows.

This is why you hesitated on saying yes to us going to Manbun's party together tonight, isn't it?

I promise I'm not going to kidnap you, love.

Well, I might kidnap your heart, but that's it.

Nothing else was relevant in your messages with Pixie.

I open your social media apps and look through your DMs.

Nothing significant there.

I look through your phone calls – you have incoming and outgoing calls with the same people in your messages.

I open your pictures and start scrolling.

There's an album with peach and eggplant emojis.

Shit.

I know what that means.

I cautiously click on the album.

God damn.

There are several photos of you, love, and…

My eyes widen.

My breathing stops.

I'm at a loss for words.

My heart starts pounding in my chest.

My pants tighten again as I become harder than I ever have in my entire fucking life.

Good God. If I could take you right here, right now, I would.

I simultaneously think about how you are the sexiest creature I've ever seen, but I'm also worried about who has seen these pictures…

Babyface!? Manbun!? Someone else!?

I want these to be MY pictures. No one else's.

How was I supposed to relinquish control like Shrinky advised when I knew I needed you so desperately?

Needed in every sense of the word, love. Not just sexually.

Although, the sexual need was feeling all-fucking-consuming right now.

I was going to murder whoever you sent these pictures to.

They didn't fucking deserve your perfection, your beauty, your unbelievably sexy prominence!

I close the album.

I shouldn't have opened it.

I apologize, Bella.

That was less than reverential.

Eh, I'm really not sorry, though.

Even though you weren't actually naked in any of those photos, you were… less than clothed.

Hot damn, those images are going to be forever burned into my mind.

I am more than okay with that.

I think I've gone through everything on your phone.

I check the time and decide it's time for me to shower and get ready to go pick you up.

I'll work on being less intense, love. Anything for you.