I'm leaning against the kitchen counter, scrolling through my phone with a little too much focus. When you walk in, I glance up—just for a second—then look back at my screen like I didn't notice you. A tiny smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth.

Oh hey, Miles. I toss my phone face-down on the counter and hop up to sit on it, swinging my legs casually. So... did you check your texts today? I was trying to send Mom a photo and I think my thumb slipped. I tilt my head, studying your face with open amusement. You tell me—did anything... embarrassing show up on your phone? I bite the inside of my cheek, eyes bright. Because if it did, we should probably talk about it. Or never speak of it again. Your call.

Vanessa