I wake to my phone beeping. Kodiak’s phone is on his bedside table, buzzing too.

Disoriented, I reach for it. Kodiak and I made love all night. For hours. Until we were sweaty and exhausted. Then we showered, washing one another before we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

It was the best night of my life, no question.

But now, as I look at my phone, seeing dozens of texts from Matilda and notifications from Instagram my heart beings to pound.

No. No. No. This cannot be happening.

"What is it?" Kodiak asks, reaching for his phone.

I leap over the bed, knocking his phone from his hand before he can unlock it. Before he can see what I just saw.

I can’t move my fingers fast enough. I need to press delete. #Instafail

"What’s up?" Kodiak asks, not registering my panic. Obviously, I can’t chuck his phone in the toilet without looking cray-cray.

"Uh, just uh..." I bite my bottom lip, unable to answer. What do I say? Oh, just been outed as your stalker to everyone in Linesworth. No big thing.

He yawns and then grabs his phone from where it landed on his carpeted floor and slides it on. My heart pounds, my eyes squeezed shut. I can’t watch.

"Wait, what?" he says after a moment, his words laced with confusion. Which makes sense.

Apparently, when I took that photo at the pub last night I accidentally tagged the location. And someone who was there must have clicked on the pub and quickly found my feed. With hundreds of photos of #MyMountainMan, thus alerting everyone in town.

I have to get out of here.

"Kensie, do you know what this is?" he asks, but I’m already scrambling to my feet, pulling on my jeans, and reaching for my bag. "Clive sent me this feed, it’s... Fuck, it’s all pictures of me."

How is this happening? I finally have everything I want, and it blows up in my face.

I’m more than a creeper. I’m a freaking fool.

Worse than his ex. Worse than anyone.

"Wait. Kens, did you take these?" he asks but even as he asks he knows the answer. There’s no way anyone else could have taken them. Ninety percent are shots from the coffee shop, taken from behind the counter. My counter. "What the fu--"

I cut him off. "I’m sorry, I know..."

“All this time, you’ve been lying to me?”

“I’m sorry.” My face crumbles and shame washes over me. what was I thinking? Why didn’t I delete it yesterday instead of digging my grave even deeper?

“Kensie, this is --“

“I know. I know how fucked up it is.” Without waiting for the conversation to turn even down a darker corner, I scramble out of the room, and

run from his apartment, unable to look back. I don’t want to see his face, not after he sees the close-up shots of him, the hashtags I used. I may think to call him #BeardGasm is funny… but through his eyes? It’s intrusive at best, #CrazyTrain at worst.

I’m on the sidewalk, and he is calling after me, but I keep moving full steam ahead. I can’t breeze past this. There’s no way I can explain myself.

There is no explanation -- except that his body makes my panties melt and my heart skip a beat, and my Instagram account is the only thing I want to look at late at night, when I’m alone in my bed, one hand scrolling through his photos and the other hand... Well, let’s just say he does things to me that would make me blush if I wasn’t already so effing mortified.

My phone rings. "Matilda?" I moan.

"Where are you?"

"I was at his house. We… Oh shit, it was bad."

"I got cinnamon rolls and coffee. I’m outside your door."

"See you in five."

I practically sprint home. We only live a few minutes apart and thank god for that because tears are running down my cheeks, I didn’t even grab my shoes before I dashed out of his apartment, and my shirt is on inside out. If I thought I was a mess before, this is an all-time low.

"You look awful," Matilda says when I reach my house. "What happened to your hair?"

I slide my key in the lock, moaning in response. "I know. We took a shower together last night. And I fell asleep with it wet."

"Yikes, no wonder you spend so much time blowing it out."

"Are we seriously discussing my blow-drying techniques?" I ask, grabbing the bag of pastries from the Three Sisters’ Bakery and inhaling one of the cinnamon rolls.

"I don’t know," Matilda groans. "This is like, straight up tragic."

"I know." I shake my head. "You should have seen the look of confusion on his face when he looked at his phone."

"Wait, you were right there?"

"Yes," I say falling onto my couch. "In his bed. Just think about that for a second. Me. In Kodiak’s bed. Naked."

Matilda purses her lips. "And then you fucked it all up."

"That isn’t helping."

"Sorry." She grimaces and hands me a coffee. "But sweetie, what did you think was going to happen?"

"I don’t know." I take a sip and whimper in self-pity. "It was so funny when it started."

She scrunches up her face. "Was it, though?"

"Look, just because you never do anything questionable doesn’t mean you can judge me."

"Oh, I do questionable, Kens. Just not on the freaking internet."

"I know, it was idiotic. And immature and..." I let my head fall into my hands. "So not worth it. Last night Kodiak and I didn’t just bang. We were, like, connected on a soul level."

"A soul level?" Matilda snorts. "Then I’m guessing you didn’t mention the fact you want to marry him and have his babies?"

"I did actually. I mean, basically." I tell her everything, starting from the beginning. I recount the entire date, the frenzied pre-date sex, meeting my parents and his friends, the dancing, the heart-to-heart in bed... everything. And by the time I’m done, we both have tears in our eyes. "See? That’s why this is bad. It wasn’t a hookup, Matilda."

"It was the real deal," she finishes for me.

I nod, wiping the tears from my eyes. "And I went and ruined everything with a stupid picture."

"Well, to be fair, it was like, with three hundred forty-seven stupid pictures posted on social media."

"Matilda!"

She puts up her hands in mock defense. "I know, sorry."

We split the final cinnamon roll and I ask her what I’m supposed to do now.

"I think you put on your big girl panties and apologize."