Two of my husband’s friends stopped by today, and we were enjoying some time by the pool. The warm, golden afternoon sun made everything feel a bit more relaxed, and the sound of water lapping against the edges of the pool added a peaceful backdrop to our conversation. My husband, Dave, and Kevin were in the middle of a heated discussion about some work project—something that always seemed to take up most of their attention when they were together. They were so engrossed in their talk that it was as if the world around them faded away. I didn’t mind, though; I was content to let them talk while I took a moment to unwind.

Nick, however, seemed to notice the lull in the conversation and, instead of joining in, had picked up his camera and started taking pictures of me. At first, it didn’t seem out of the ordinary. He was always the one with the camera at social gatherings, snapping candid moments for fun, often capturing photos of the group, the landscape, or whatever he found interesting at the time. But today, it felt different. His lens was aimed squarely at me, and he was zooming in, adjusting his position as if he were trying to find the perfect angle. It wasn’t a casual shot—it was as if he was trying to capture more than just a passing moment.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, adjusting the strap of my bikini, feeling suddenly very aware of his gaze. It wasn’t that I minded having pictures taken, but there was something in the way Nick was framing me with the camera that made me uneasy. The way he was positioning himself, moving around to catch different angles, made it feel as though he was studying me more than just taking a picture. I could feel my cheeks flush, even though the heat of the sun was already making me warm.

Glancing over at Dave and Kevin, I hoped they would notice what was happening, but they were so absorbed in their conversation that they didn’t even seem to register Nick’s focus on me. Nick was still clicking away, occasionally pausing to check his shots, but there was something about the way his eyes lingered on me that unsettled me. I couldn’t tell if he was just trying to get a good shot, or if there was something more to it—something more personal.

I forced myself to smile, hoping it didn’t seem too awkward. I wanted to ignore the discomfort and just enjoy the day, but it was becoming harder to do that. The more Nick snapped away, the more I felt self-conscious, as if I were being put on display without consent. I wasn’t sure how to address it. Did I tell him to stop, or did I just let it go and pretend like nothing was happening? Part of me didn’t want to create a scene, but the other part of me was beginning to question his intentions.

I looked over at Dave again, this time a little more pointedly, hoping he might sense that something was off. But still, he was laughing at something Kevin had said, completely unaware of the tension that had built between Nick and me.

As the afternoon wore on, I tried to refocus on the conversation that Dave and Kevin were having. Still, Nick’s presence and the constant click of the camera kept pulling my attention back to him. I tried to relax again, reminding myself that he was probably just being his usual playful self. But the nagging feeling remained, and I wondered if I’d be able to shake it off, or if I would have to face whatever was simmering beneath the surface later.