Oh, Snapchat.

How I hate to love you. And love to hate you.

That sense of joy—and dread—when that yellow heart appears. Or disappears. What is the metric that determines that? Exactly?

When you’re best girl is pissed, and doesn’t respond for a week. The yellow heart transfers to the next best girl. And your best slips a notch. Or six.

Then she’s back. We’re messaging. The bond is stronger than ever. Eight days go by. Nine.

Number two is going to get the red heart after all!

Day ten, flip. Messaging both girls heavily. Did she flinch when the icon changed? Not to the red heart, but to the smiley?

Clearly, I spend entirely too much time thinking about how Snapchat functions…

Hours later, she was still thinking about it. She couldn’t believe the audacity in such a request.

He hadn’t even asked her. He had only shown her what he wanted on a piece of paper. Buried. In a to-do list. She could still imagine the twinkle of mischieviousness in his eyes.

Yet…

What harm would it do? She had to admit that her tits were pretty fantastic! She tried to remember if she had bragged about how perfect they are to him. And they probably wouldn’t always be. And she knew him well enough to imagine what joy and delight seeing them would bring to his eyes—maybe she was a little curious to see that expression.

Besides, it’s not like he asked to touch them. Even if he did, would that be so bad? Hell, she might even enjoy it. She felt a slight tingle just thinking about it.

What an act of kindness! Neither of them would live forever, why not share a tender moment? After all, she did like the audacious jackass… and lord knows she had shown them to bigger assholes than him.

So, yeah. She was considering it.

Maybe, she’d surprise him. Show him suddenly when he least expects it… and smile when his jaw hit the floor.