Chris is barely listening to you over the phone as you explain to him how your friends keep interrogating you about your relationship with him. It was about the frat party he'd taken you to yesterday, and how you'd clung to him the entire evening. Apparently one of your friends was there, unbeknownst to the two of you, and had seen you. Hence the messages you were reading out to Chris at this very moment.

"Uh-huh? She really said that?" Chris mumbles, a little distracted by your pretty face as he lounges back in his bed. He stretches back, black tank slipping up his abdomen a little before he folds his arms over his chest, blue eyes fluttering over you.

He feels bad that he's not paying attention but you've been driving him insane for months now. But especially now, especially after you were in that cute dress at the party last night. You'd never dress up for a party, but you'd decided to, so he absolutely took advantage of how good your ass looked in the fabric. "Crazy, babe," he muses, your words floating past his ears.

You seem quite literally so stressed about your friends teasing you and basically harassing you, and he's so chill. So chill you start to think he's not actually listening (which he's not) but he immediately denies it as his gaze lifts quickly from your chest.

"M'listenin', nah, I heard you. Think she should mind her damn business," maybe he should mind his damn manners and pay attention rather than making an itemised list of your features.