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I lifted my phone. “No, action shots is the plan.”

“These are really good,” I said, scrolling through the pics Asher had taken. We sat at a table on the pier, sipping cold drinks we’d bought from a food truck. Asher had insisted on buying one of the dog drinks they offered for Bean and he was literally sitting on the ground next to him while holding it. “You look like his butler or something.”

“In the pics?”

“No, right now, in real life,” I said. “He has you completely under his power.”

“How is he not adopted?”

“People are naturally afraid of pits. And his personality doesn’t win them over.”

As if to prove my point, a woman walked by and paused to smile at him. “Aw, he’s up for adoption?”

Bean let out a low growl as she moved to pet him. She immediately stopped in her tracks.

“He is,” I said. “And really, he warms up. You interested?”

She pointed over her shoulder. “Um, no, I have a friend who…” She started walking before she finished her sentence. I barely heard her mumbled, “Thanks,” as she picked up speed.

“You’re a tool, Bean,” I said. “A total tool.”

Asher chuckled, then climbed to his feet and back into the chair next to me, looking over my shoulder as I continued to scroll through pics. Most were action shots, me and Bean running or him fetching a stick, the focus on Bean, me blurry in the background.

“Have you done this before?” Asher asked. “Taken pictures of him outside the shelter?”

“Yes. But these pictures are much better,” I added quickly. Although, if I were being honest, they weren’t that different. I sighed. “I don’t know what else to do for him.”

“Maybe something youhaven’tdone before?” Asher said.

“Thanks, stellar suggestion.”

He laughed. “I’m full of them. How come you didn’t want to be in any of the pics?”

I pointed to the blurry me.

“You know what I mean,” he said.

I did not like to put myself online. People could say the meanest things behind the privacy of some generic picture and screen name. And although I generally didn’t care what a bunch of strangers thought about me, I also didn’t feel the need to purposely subject myself to criticism on the regular. “I’m not good at social media. I’m really the last person who should be in charge of social mediafor the shelter.” I turned off my screen and tucked my phone into the front pocket of my backpack.

“Considering how we met and communicated, it’s funny to hear you say that you’re not good at social media.”

His mention of Gemma jolted me out of my pretend bubble. The bubble where hanging out with Asher was perfectly normal. In this bubble we had met in a café and he knew I was me all along and there wasn’t this other person lying to him on the side. “I…uh…that’s different.”

“How?”

“That’s not me putting myself out there for the world to comment on.”

“Just one handsome stranger?” He flashed that goofy smile of his. This guy with his floppy hair and lanky arms and silly smirk was pretty adorable.

I shoved his arm with a laugh. “What made you think I wasn’t some forty-year-old perv, by the way?”

“Our mutuals and meeting you…obviously.”

“Obviously.” Mutuals? Asher and Gemma had mutual online friends? I wondered who. Did that mean she was actually someone he knew? But if not, had I set Asher up to be kidnapped by some forty-year-old perv by providingmyface to hide behind? In a panic, I said, “You want my phone number? I mean, do you have it? Have I given it to you? Do you want it? I answer texts faster than DMs.”

He looked out at the ocean, a small smile coming onto his face, then he gave a little nod. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I want it.”

“Okay.” We exchanged numbers, then Bean nudged his wetnose under my hand, asking for scratches. I obliged. “We should get Bean back. Thanks for helping me today.”