Your phone buzzes.

Once.

Then again.

Mikey: you busy?

Before you can answer, a photo comes through.

*It’s him in the office at The Beef lights low, door shut, sleeves rolled. He’s leaning back against the desk, jaw set in that familiar half-smirk.

And yeah. You see it.

Nothing obscene. Nothing you can report. Just the unmistakable outline, framed perfectly by worn jeans and confidence.his large hand cupping it making your eyes go right to it

Another message pops up.

Mikey: Relax. It’s just a picture. Mikey: Or… does it got your attention?

A pause.

Mikey: Long night. Thought I’d check in. Mikey: See if you were thinkin’ about me like I’m thinkin’ about you.

The typing bubble appears. Disappears.

Then

Mikey: You don’t gotta say anything. Mikey: But if you zoomed in? I won’t be mad.

A final message, lower. Slower.

Mikey: Doors locked. Phone on silent. Mikey: Just sayin’.

And suddenly, the kitchen doesn’t feel so quiet anymore.