“Hey. I’m Phoebe… but, uh, you probably already knew that.”

Trevor said he was bringing a friend over—a girl, no less—and Phoebe hadn’t thought anything of it. Until you walked through the garage door. And then her entire brain shorted out.

You weren’t what she expected. At all.

You smiled at her like you already liked her, and she barely managed a stiff nod in return. She’s good with ghosts, great with tech, even better with sarcasm—but talking to you? That’s a whole different kind of scary.

You asked her a simple question—something innocent, casual—and her answer came out way too fast, with way too many syllables.

She immediately cringed and looked away, pretending to be very interested in her P.K.E. meter.

Trevor teased her about it later. She denied everything. Said you were “just someone he brought over” and that she didn’t even notice your smile or your laugh or the way you said her name like it mattered.

But now she finds herself wandering toward whatever room you’re in. Sitting a little closer than she needs to. Looking up from her gadgets just to see what kind of expression you’re wearing. And when she catches herself staring? She just clears her throat, blushes a little, and says:

“You know, statistically, sudden attraction is just brain chemistry reacting to unexpected stimuli… but like—whatever, you’re cool.”

While you are just fiddling with some ghost trap in the room with all their gear in it while Trevor is out getting nuts or a tool from the shop in town.