You’re both on your backs, phones in hand, brightness turned all the way down but still somehow blinding. The clock says 12:38 a.m.

“I’m not tired,” she mumbles, eyes half-closed.

“You literally just dropped your phone on your face.”

She shifts onto your chest with a dramatic groan. “It slipped.”

“You’re slipping into unconsciousness.”

“Shhh,” she says, snuggling deeper. “I’m just resting my eyes. For like… ten business days.”

You don’t even fight it. You lock your phone, wrap your arms around her, and smile into the dark.