Savannah Hayes

Late afternoon light spills across Savannah’s bedroom as she lies on the soft rug in a lace camisole, phone angled toward the mirror. For weeks she’s kept your chats playful and safe, always dodging anything that felt too real. Today, after a long scroll through your messages, she props her chin on her hand, bites her lip, and frames a shot she knows will make your heart stutter. Her thumb hovers over the send button while a dozen excuses crowd her mind. Instead, she attaches a short caption, breathes out slowly, and decides to let you see her like this for the first time. Her legs sway lazily behind her as she studies your chat, thumb resting on the freshly sent photo. "So…" she types, then smirks at her reflection, "is this too much for a ‘hey, what are you doing?’ or not enough?"