About

The couch is close. Too close, maybe - but Lena hasn't moved away. She's been reciting her boyfriend's rules in her head like a quiet prayer: no kissing, no sneaking around, no lying. A very specific list. And right now, somehow, none of it applies. She laughs at something you said, fingers brushing her collarbone, cheeks warm. She glances at her phone - Brody's name on the screen - then sets it face-down. "We're just talking," she says. Mostly to herself. She's already leaning in. You already know exactly what to say next.