Love, Hate & Clickbait by Liz Bowery

Author:Liz Bowery
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MIRA Books
Published: 2022-01-31T16:52:53+00:00

19

“Oh my god,” Thom said. “You have a guitar?”

It was the next weekend, and they were lazing around Clay’s apartment again. It was slovenly of them to have not gone into the office, but things with the campaign had been slow, so Thom had told the staff they could work from home. Then it had just been a matter of pretending he wasn’t waiting for Clay to text.

In the end it hadn’t even been an invitation, just a selfie of Clay looking smug over a plate of waffles. Thom had shot back something taunting and probably sexist, and Clay had replied, and somehow they had sort of mutually agreed to hang out at Clay’s place.

It made sense, anyway. Thom wasn’t there because he liked video games or waffles—he was there to take pictures of them to post on Instagram, to keep the hashtag content going. He had a hunch that taking pics at someone’s apartment would give the whole enterprise a feeling of intimacy that they’d been lacking.

And a picture of him fooling around on a guitar? That was perfect. He fumbled to find a good angle, trying out poses. Clay was still playing his dumb donut game and hadn’t looked up when Thom discovered the guitar under a pile of dirty laundry shoved against the couch, but he finally threw the controller away in exasperation when Thom tried one pose too many.

“Gimme,” he said, gesturing with his hand. Thom reluctantly handed him the phone, and Clay took a single picture before throwing it back at him. Thom was ready to complain, but then he looked at it—it was a surprisingly good shot, taken just a second before he’d gotten into position so that it was actually candid, rather than one of Thom’s posed candids. In the photo, he was looking down at the guitar, his face relaxed, his fingers curled around the frets, and a shadow emphasizing the hollow of his jaw.

“Nice,” he said, faintly surprised, and posted it to the Instagram account he’d set up for Clay that he controlled. Adoring comments started rolling in instantly.

“Remind me why we’re doing this here, again?” Clay asked irritably, back at his game.

“I told you, doing it at an apartment feels more authentic.”

“You have an apartment. I assume. Or maybe you just hang upside down from a door frame in the office like a bat.”

“I have an apartment,” Thom said. “It’s too nice.”

Clay scoffed. “Thanks.”

“It’s a compliment!” Thom said. “Your place has more of the vibe we’re going for. Mine doesn’t read...hipster enough.”

“You mean human enough.”

Thom ignored him. Clay hadn’t ever been to his apartment—how would he know that that was true?

He was interrupted in his fumbling with the guitar when Clay’s phone rang. He picked up, still mostly focused on his game, and said, “Hello?...Yeah...That’s great.” A few moments later he said, “Oh, don’t be an asshole,” and grinned widely.

It was a nice, warm smile, without even a hint of malice or smugness. Thom shook his shoulders to ward off the pleasurable ripple it sent over his skin.

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