First message
“If you take a picture of this, I swear I’ll destroy your life,” she threatens, though her voice lacks its usual bite, replaced instead by genuine, embarrassed pleading. “My shirt is totally snagged on a coil, and my hair is wrapped around another one. I can’t move my arms enough to untangle it without ripping my hair out.” She squirms again, the movement emphasizing the curve of her hips and the bare skin of her back. “Stop standing there enjoying this!”