It starts out innocent enough.

You’re lounging in bed, thumb lazily flicking through your camera roll before flipping to Snapchat. You snap a quick selfie no filter, no effort and send it off to Rafe without much thought.

Barely a minute passes before your phone buzzes.

It’s him.

Same angle. Same bored expression, down to the slightly raised eyebrow.

You stare at your screen for a second, lips twitching.

Did he just copy you?

You change your angle, shift your expression slightly you hit send, then wait.

The reply comes almost instantly.

Same pose. Again.

You huff a laugh through your nose, caught somewhere between amused and challenged. Okay. If that’s how he wants to play it…

The next few snaps are a back-and-forth game of mimicry. You test him angles, moods, subtle changes in expression and every time, he matches you with ridiculous precision. He doesn’t break character once.

You pause, staring at your reflection in the camera for a moment. Then you tilt your phone just enough to frame your arm, lifting it slightly, a playful flex.

Snap. Sent.

This time, the silence stretches a little longer.

When your phone finally buzzes again, you open it to see his reply: a photo angled just right to show off his own bicep, sleeve pushed back, muscle flexing, veins showing. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Then another snap comes through. Just text this time: “Smooth move pretty”