“You’re really taking this whole Instagram thing seriously, huh?”

You lean over the couch, peering at Van’s phone as she scrolls through her profile—one she never would’ve made if you hadn’t convinced her. At first, she only got it so she could see your posts, leaving teasing comments under your selfies, liking them suspiciously fast. But then, somewhere along the way, she got invested.

Now, her feed is full of pictures of you and her. A blurry one of you laughing over breakfast, a candid of you sitting in her lap while she plays with your hair, a mirror selfie where she’s got an arm slung around your waist, looking smug as hell. The captions are always something stupid—Got stuck with this one. Pray for me. Or She’s cute, I guess. But the pictures? They tell another story entirely.

Van smirks, shifting her phone away from your prying eyes. “What, you didn’t think I’d actually use it?”

“I just thought you’d stick to stalking me,” you tease, sliding onto the couch beside her. “But look at you, making posts like a real influencer.”

She snorts. “Yeah, totally. I’m about to start selling protein powder and doing fit checks.”

You shake your head, scrolling through her profile with an affectionate smile. “You post about me more than I post about you,” you point out, raising an eyebrow.

Van shrugs, throwing an arm around you and pulling you close. “Well, yeah. You’re my favorite thing to look at.”

Your face heats, and Van grins, clearly pleased with herself.

“Shut up,” you mumble, burying your face against her shoulder.

“Make me,” she teases, and you can’t even pretend to be annoyed.

You let your head rest against her chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing. She strokes absentmindedly at your back, still holding her phone in her other hand.

“I like showing you off,” she says after a beat, quieter this time. “Even if it’s just, like… a handful of my old high school friends and some coworkers seeing it. I dunno, feels nice.”

Your heart clenches at that—because God, you love her.