Page 37 of Choke

I shrug and say, “I love you so much.”

She places a loving hand on my shoulder, offering comfort and support with the simple gesture.

We chat a little more, and I pull out my phone and search for Adrian’s name. In the last few weeks, he made his account public and much more active. He now has over 15,ooo followers and posts at least once per day. I click a video that shows him and a few other guys in the gym cracking jokes. I hand the phone to Lane, and she scrolls through, looking at me every few seconds and making a face that lets me knowthat while she might think he is a lunatic, she also thinks he’s easy to look at.

She clicks on his stories, and I lean over to watch with her. The stories include photos and videos from their game today, ending with them in a bar celebrating their win.

“Bushy Beavers?” Lane questions incredulously.

I shake my head, rolling my eyes.

“I know. It’s some stupid beer league team that blew up on TikTok.” I comment.

“Well, at least he is in the public eye. Maybe a little safer than some random guy who lives in the shadows.”

She goes silent for another minute before bursting into laughter. I lean over to see what’s funny, and she’s in the comments of a gym post shared 18 hours ago. The video shows a sweaty Adrian doing leg presses, and fuck—I can’t help the way my body responds to seeing him like this. Heat courses through my veins, and a dull throb starts between my legs. I fucking hate how attractive he is; how much I love seeing him like this.

“Oh my god,” She says, covering her mouth as she continues reading.

“What?”

She is scrolling through comments, but I can’t see what makes her giggle like a little kid; she is fully entertained by whatever she’s looking at.

She briefly spins the phone toward me before turning it back and reading aloud.

“‘Daddy?’” She continues to laugh, “‘Respectfully, I’d let him ruin my life.’ and ‘He could commit war crimes, and I’d still let him hit it.’ and ‘I’d let him snap my spine like a glow stick.’ and ‘I didn’t think anything would get me wetter than that TikTok video, and here we are.’”

She’s wheezing now.

“Jesus Christ, does he know his fan base is 90% women who want to be thrown through a wall?!”

She continues to scroll.

“What TikTok video do they keep talking about?”

Perfect.

I had intentionally left that part of the story out. Groaning, I reach for my phone, open TikTok, and search for the video. It has over 100 million views now. I hand the device back to Lane. A pit forms in my stomach as I wait for her reaction.

“Holy shit!” She exclaims when she notices how viral it is. There’s a beat of silence as she processes what she’s seeing, then her head snaps up, “Is that…that’s you?!”

Her eyes shoot up to mine; her eyebrows are so high I’m shocked they don’t disappear into her hairline. I hold my breath, nodding once.

“Yeah…that’s me.”

We’ve finished two bottles of wine, and our yawns come regularly. I am about to suggest we tuck in for the night when Lane clears her throat.

“Lex, you are a smart girl. Promise me you won’t let his looks distract you from his terrifying and problematic behavior.”

I roll my eyes and take another sip of wine. “You sound like a concerned mother warning her daughter about dating a guy with a motorcycle.”

She doesn’t laugh. “Lex, I’m serious.”

That makes me pause. Lane is almost always joking and teasing. But not now.

I exhale, feeling the weight of her stare. “I promise,” I say, knowing I’m lying. Already distracted.

She slowly stands up, reaching for my hands to pull me up. I untwist my fingers, silently praying that crossing them had somehow absolved me of the lie I told one of my best friends.

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