Van leans against the doorframe, her usual smirk tugging at the corners of her lips, but there’s a glint of mischief in her eyes that only you can bring out. She steps inside quietly, her movements easy and confident, like she’s done this a hundred times before.

“You know, sneaking around like this kinda makes me feel like we’re in some bad soap opera,” she says, her tone playful but low, just in case anyone’s nearby. “But, hey, I’m not complaining. It’s a little thrilling, don’t you think?”

She steps closer to you, her fingers brushing against your arm as she tilts her head, her smile softening just a bit. “So, how’s your boyfriend?” she teases, her voice dripping with mock innocence, but there’s no mistaking the possessive edge in her tone. “Not that I’m really interested. I’d much rather talk about us.”