Page 16 of Thirst Trap
“Thanks for the invite assholes.”
Trent’s voice snaps me out of the thoughts that usually send me going down the Whitley what-if rabbit hole.
“We did invite you, asshole. Check your messages.”
Trent gives Knox a questioning look as he pulls out his phone, hopefully checking his text messages where he will find a message in our group text saying to meet at The Joint. I was actually shocked he wasn’t here when I arrived. Trent never passes on a night out.
“Excuse me for missing it,” he says, taking a seat at the table that is currently housing the bucket of beers Knox and I split. “Must be because I’m getting so many notifications on the other apps on my phone I can’t keep them straight.”
Knox and I look at each other, both clearly confused as to what the fuck he’s talking about.
“All right, I’ll bite,” I say, knowing that if I don’t, he’s just going to tell us anyway. “What is blowing up your phone so much that you missed the invite.”
“I’m so glad it was you who asked, Officer Sexy.”
That gets my attention. I kind of hoped that Officer Sexy would die a slow death in Nashville. I mean, it can’t get any better than giving a lap dance to Whitley. Though the more I look at Trent, I have a feeling that not only is this name not going to die, but that my old friend is up to something no good. And I have another feeling it’s at my expense.
“Trent…” I say, my voice growing more impatient. “What the fuck did you do?”
Trent turns his phone to me, and I take a few steps closer to him. I can tell a video is playing, and at first, I’m not sure what it is.
Then I see her hair. That blond hair that I’d know anywhere.
Then I see me, sliding on the floor to her, spreading open her legs. Only when this video was taken, I didn’t know what it would feel like to be between those legs.
“Trent. What the fuck is this?” I bark, grabbing the phone from his hand.
“Easy, man. It’s nothing to be mad about,” Trent says, though his voice doesn’t sound as confident as it did a few minutes ago. “I just happened to take a video of you giving the beautiful Miss Whitley a lap dance. And I maybe, as a drunken joke, uploaded it to the ForU app under an account I created called Officer_Sexy. And maybe, just maybe, it has gone viral and my phone has been blowing up all week because of it. Congratulations, my friend, you have officially become a thirst trap.”
ForU?
Viral video?
Thirst trap?
I plop down on the high-top stool and just stare at the video, watching it over and over again as I try to process all of this.
I’m not a big social media guy. I have Facebook and Instagram, but I rarely use them. I definitely don’t have an app that I only know about because of my niece doing ridiculous dances she learned on there.
I’m definitely not a guy who would ever make a viral video.
And what the fuck is athirst trap?
“Dude, are you mad?” Trent asks, and if I had to guess, he’s starting to maybe feel bad about what he did. “You love that kind of attention. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”
Am I mad? I don’t even know. It’s true I don’t mind attention. I’ve never been one to hide in the corner. I’m madder that he did it without my consent.
Then there is Whitley. Is she mad that this video is alive for theForUworld to see? Does she even know? Does she think I did it? Does she hate me now?
And, of course, I have no way of knowing how to contact her.
“I… I don’t know, man,” I say, trying to find the words. “I don’t care that you videoed it. I knew people were. But you posted this for the world to see. And apparently it has. And did you think about her at all? That’s not cool, man.”
“Dude, don’t worry,” Trent says, taking the phone back from me and ignoring everything I just said. “All of the comments and messages are about you. No one has even mentioned her. And no way can you please all these women in the comments, so I’ll take a few off of your hands.”
“What do you mean comments and messages?”
Trent laughs, scrolling past the video and going to a page flooded with comments.
