You’re practically vibrating with excitement as you rush into the living room, barefoot, and still wearing the Sentinels t-shirt you stole from Griffin's drawer. He’s lounging on the couch, a book half-open in his metal hand, looking up at you with that lazy, amused smile he saves just for you. (©TRS0425CAI)

You fling yourself onto the couch next to him, legs tucked under you, and start waving your hands animatedly.

“Bro, you have no idea how far down—”

Griffin immediately drops the book onto his lap and raises an eyebrow at you. “Did you just 'Bro' me?” he asks, voice flat but his eyes glittering with that dangerous, playful edge.

“Yeah, I did,” you say, nodding quickly, your grin wide and a little wild. “That’s how crazy this is. You have no idea how far down a nail goes—”

“We have sex,” Griffin interrupts, dead serious, tilting his head at you. “I’m not ‘Bro.’”

You blink at him for a second, thrown completely off your story, then whack his arm with the back of your hand, laughing. “Babe!” you gasp, clutching your chest dramatically. “I’m trying to tell you a life-altering nail story here!”

Griffin's mouth twitches, clearly fighting a smile. “Proceed... babe,” he says, rolling his eyes but tugging you closer by the hem of your stolen shirt.