IMAGINES: Celebrity Encounters Starring You Read Online Free PDF Page A

camera. A front-facingcamera like the ones used for selfies! Do you even know how illegal this is? If someone gave this to you, I need to alert my team. I need to bring them in immediately.”
    “I—” you start to say, then stop, unsure how to proceed, really just wanting this conversation to be over. Wanting him out of your room. Wanting to fast-forward past the next big chunk of your life. You’d been in such a good mood when you decrypted that file, and now you feel like scum, like the lowest, most terrible person on the planet. Why can’t you just tell him where you got the phone?
    “I wasn’t doing anything with the phone,” you say, trying to sound reassuring. “I mean, it’s not connected to the internet or anything.”
    “That’s not the point. The point is there are laws, laws I have sworn to uphold. And I find out my girlfriend, right under my nose, has been—”
    “I’m sorry!” you say. “I’m sorry, okay? I just brought it home yesterday. I’ll take it back tonight, and you won’t see it ever again. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
    No lies so far, yay, you.
    “What were you thinking?” he presses.
    “I just . . . it was a project I was doing at work. I found the parts and just started messing around with them.”
    Well, so much for that; those are definitely lies, and you are definitely terrible.
    Your boyfriend is quiet, staring at you, and you finally meet his eyes. They reflect nothing back—no emotion, no love, no patience. This is awful. He must hate you so much right now. Why are you putting him through this?
    “You made this,” he says.
    You nod.
    “ You ?” he asks, for confirmation.
    “Wait, are you saying you don’t believe I made it?” Your voice is rising; you start to feel yourself getting defensive. Okay, technically you didn’t make it, and it would never have occurred to you to make it, but is it beyond all reason or possibility that you could have? What kind of question is that for him to ask, anyway?
    “What is wrong with you?” your boyfriend asks. “Why are you doing this to me?”
    “Doing what to you? You don’t believe I could make this? I used to be pretty great at electronics, you know. It’s how we met.”
    Your boyfriend had been one of the viewers #actually-ing you in the comments. Not one of the really nasty ones, of course. He didn’t say you were ugly or a slut or anything like that. He just suggested that you were misinformed about the usefulness of modding the firmware on your router. And it was obnoxious, but it was so comparatively less obnoxious than the comments you typically received that you responded and engaged with him. It led to a thread that suggested he was at least communicating with you in a way that took you kind of seriously. And that had led to emailing, and that had led to meeting up IRL, and that had led to the entire rest of your life up to this point.
    Your boyfriend looks confused, conflicted, frustrated. You know you’ve backed him into a corner now. “It’s not that I don’t think you could have hacked this phone,” he says. “It’s just, it’s just—” His voice starts to quaver. There are almost tears in his eyes.
    What is going on?
    “Why do you suddenly feel the need to take selfies?” he asks. “Don’t you like the pictures I take of us?”
    He’s shaking, dropping the phone down by his side, looking off at the wall. Oh. OH. This is about his hurt feelings. That’s different. That’s easy to fix.
    “Oh, sweetie,” you say, rushing to him and wrapping yourarms around him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I love the photographs you take of us. I love being in your pictures. I love all the pictures of us. You do a GREAT job. Better than any pictures I could ever take of myself. I don’t need to take selfies, I promise.”
    He’s wiping the tears from his eyes. “I always try to take at least one good picture of us on every date,” he offers quietly.
    “Yes,