For two weeks, we fall into a routine. In the mornings, we go for a run together on the beach, jogging at a steady pace along the packed sand outside of Diego’s house as the sun comes up. I’m not usually a runner, but Diego asked me if I wanted to go. He said he wanted to run in the mornings and not at night, because the nights were for us.

So I thought about it, bought sneakers and went with him one morning.

Neither one of us speaks while we’re running. We don’t listen to music, either. Instead, we’re both silent, letting the slap of our feet and the cries of the birds slice through the humid, salty air.

I’m trying to forget the photos with every step. It's working, sort of.

We return from our run and shower together. Well, usually. Sometimes Diego can’t even wait that long. If I’m wearing a sports bra and shorts and if he’s wearing only running shorts, sometimes he pulls me into the Gulf, and we swim and kiss. Then we’ll go inside, soaking wet, and strip each other in his bedroom before ending up intertwined and breathless in the shower.

One of us makes breakfast. Sometimes Liam and Sawyer join us. It’s pretty wonderful, all of us together. Like a team. Or a family. One weekend we even had Scott and Amber, along with Jessica and her fiancé over for a bar-be-cue.

Normal, except for the photos that looming like a summer storm in the distance.

During the mornings and afternoons, we work on the business like a true startup team. I do social media, a newsletter, some videos, pitch ideas to podcasts and vlogs and online magazines. Diego handles selling ads and talking with Sergei from Sahara about the acquisition. At three, Diego goes to ‘work’ gaming, and I continue on the computer. Then I’ll make dinner or watch Sawyer or Liam struggle in the kitchen.

Sure, it’s controlled chaos. There’s a woman in France who watches Liam and sends him giant boxes of beef jerky. We have no idea why. There’s always some mess somewhere, whether it’s food wrappers, papers, toys.

A kindergarten for adult boys, I call it. But I join in my share of the shenanigans. It’s more fun than college, truth be told. Like when Sawyer registered his car and got a vanity license plate — VIRGIN — it read. Playing on his geekiness. I made sure to take an entire video of him getting in his car and driving off with the plate, and the fans ate it up.

The video had 10,000 hits in an hour on YouTube.

On most days, I’ll eat with those clowns and then either read, do more social media, or sometimes play online with Diego. At first, I was hesitant to go on the live stream with him, but so far, there’s been no indication that any of the regular gamers are the ones who sent me the photo. And I think they’re treating me like one of the guys, which is what I wanted.

Around ten I go up to Diego’s room and send more emails, talk to some college girlfriends on Skype, chat with my mom. Paint my nails. I play with Zelda.

Normal.

By the time Diego’s done gaming and eating, we’re ravenous for each other again.

The days and nights are so busy that I’ve almost been able to successfully put the photo out of my mind. Maybe it's a one-off incident, something that’s completely random and cruel. Perhaps it was the politician, just trying to scare me.

Something I should ignore.

Life at Diego’s is actually good. More than good. It’s better than it’s been in years. And I’m not in a hurry to return to my parents’ home, where the ghosts of the past reside. So I stay, and the photo gets buried into the recess of my mind.

One Friday night, I finish gaming with Diego and walk into the kitchen to grab a beer. It’s around ten-thirty at night, and Diego’s got a half hour left on his shift. I’m eager for him to finish so we can pack. He’s taking Saturday and Sunday off. We’re planning to take Zelda north to canoe on a river and stay in a log cabin in the Florida swamp. Diego said he wanted a weekend away from technology and I readily agreed — while joking about how neither of us had been in a canoe and whether we’d survive a night in the woods without electronic devices.

We’ve even bought Zelda a pink dog lifejacket, the sight of which has made Diego laugh all week. She’s been the star of our Insta feed in her little outfit.

I’m opening the beer when Liam walks in. I’m even drinking beer now, instead of my usual vodka-cranberry cocktail. Living in Gamerhouse has loosened me up a little.

“Want one?” I ask.

He nods, and I hand him my open beer then head to the fridge for a second.

“How are you?” he asks. He says it in an odd, concerned way.

“Fine. Awesome. Really awesome.” I smile. He’s probably high so that’s why he’s acting weird. He passes the bottle opener to me and I catch a whiff of weed. “I talked Diego into canoe lessons so we won’t drown.”

Liam pushes air out of his mouth like he’s relieved. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing good. I was worried about you for a while.”

I twist my mouth to the side and stare at him. “Why?”

He takes a long pull from his beer and shrugs. “You know, because of the photos and stuff.”

First my eyes go wide, then they narrow. “Photos. And. Stuff?”

“Yeah, when you got the photo in your mailbox, Diego said you were upset. And that pic that was sent to him. Man, that was some fucked up shit.”

“What are you talking about?” I’m trying to remain calm, but it’s hard.

“You know that weekend you were in Miami…” It suddenly registers to Liam that I have no idea what he’s talking about and that I’m not only shocked but pissed. Or on the verge of hysterics.

“Um, never mind,” he mumbles and tries to slip out of the kitchen.

But he’s too slow, and I’m too angry. I park myself in the door and block his exit.

“You are going to tell me exactly what you know and exactly what you’ve heard about me and any photos. Right now, stoner boy.”

He swallows hard. “You should talk to Diego. I don’t think I’m supposed to be telling you any of this.”

“Oh, I plan on talking to Diego. For a very long time. But since you’re standing right in front of me, I’m starting with you. Then I’m going to get Sawyer’s ass out of bed, and I’ll find out what he knows. Now spill before I lose my shit.”

“Fine. But can you lower your voice? I really don’t want Diego to know I accidentally told you about this.”

“Diego didn’t want you to talk about this with me?” I gape.

“Okay. Let’s dial it back, dude.” His voice drops to a whisper. “That weekend you were in Miami, Diego texted me and told me to disable your email. He also asked me to look for information about a particular email address.”

My mouth hangs open. All I can do is shake my head.

“I didn’t know why. I was hooking up with some girl from Tinder, so I didn’t ask any questions. I did it because he wanted it—Diego’s the boss around here. Then when you guys returned, he told me that someone had sent him a naked photo of you. One you took when you guys were in high school. He was trying to find out information about that address. I don’t think he wanted all this to get out, not with the deal with Sahara and all.”

“Did you see the photos?” I hiss.

“I saw the ones that Diego got yesterday,” he said.

“Yesterday?” I yell. Nearly blind with rage, I reach out and grab a fistful of Liam’s sweatshirt near his bicep. “Which photo did he get yesterday?”

He opens his mouth, and right then, Diego practically walks into us.

“Hey, Liam, it’s your time to get online. What—” His eyes go from me to Liam, then to my hand clutching Liam’s arm.

“What, is right,” I snap, then let go of Liam, who’s gone pale. “I need to talk to you upstairs.”

I stomp away, not looking back to see if Diego’s following. He’d better be, because if he’s not, I’m about to lose my mind and I don’t care if it’s carried live on Gamerhouse or not.