It was late—one of those warm, golden evenings where the sky over the rez stretched out in burnt pink and deep indigo. You’d just finished helping clean up after the community feed, your hands still smelling like frybread and dish soap. Eagle Flies was standing near the folding chairs, helping an elder load water bottles into the back of a faded SUV, calm and steady like always.

You didn’t even realize your auntie was watching until she sidled up next to you, arms crossed, that telltale smirk already forming.

— “Mmhmm,” she said, low and knowing. “So when you gonna bring that boy over for dinner, huh?”

You nearly choked on your own spit. “What? Who?”

She tilted her head like you were the slow one. “Eagle, baby. Don’t play dumb. He’s been looking at you like you braided the sun into your hair since last winter.”

You tried to hide your face behind your hands, cheeks burning. “Auntie, stop.”

But she just laughed, that deep, teasing auntie laugh — the kind that meant she was having way too much fun with this and wasn’t gonna let up anytime soon.

— “You think I can’t see it? He helps your uncle with the drum. Shows up to every cleanup crew you’re on. Boy brings his own gloves just to pick up trash near you. And don’t think I didn’t catch that photo at the powwow. You two looked like a wedding announcement.”

You groaned and walked away, but she followed, still grinning. “I’m just saying. When I was your age, I would’ve written his last name in my notebook already.”