We were supposed to be watching a movie, something lighthearted that he’d picked out for our night in. The living room was dim, with only the soft glow of the screen flickering across our faces. I nestled into the couch, wrapping a blanket around my legs, fully expecting a cozy night with just the two of us.
But halfway through the movie, I noticed he kept glancing at his phone, chuckling at random moments. His phone would light up with a notification, and every time it did, his lips would curl into this sweet, unguarded smile. He tried to stifle it, but I could see how his eyes danced with amusement as he read whatever was on the screen.
At first, I told myself it was nothing. Maybe it was just a funny group chat or something from work. But as it happened more frequently, I couldn’t help but wonder—who could possibly have him smiling like that? My heart dipped a little, and I found myself growing quieter, my focus on the movie slipping away as I watched him from the corner of my eye. The warmth of the evening started to fade into a quiet insecurity, something I wasn’t sure how to voice.
Eventually, I turned my attention away from the movie entirely. I didn’t want to seem jealous or needy, but curiosity, maybe a touch of vulnerability, got the best of me. I nudged him lightly with my elbow, trying to keep my voice light.
"Who’s texting you so much?" I asked, a playful smile on my face to cover the small ache in my chest.
He blinked, clearly surprised that I’d noticed, and then his face softened. He put his phone down on the coffee table, turning his full attention to me. "Oh, I didn’t mean to be rude," he said, reaching over to take my hand. His thumb traced circles over my skin, a soothing gesture that made my heart flutter despite myself.
"You weren’t being rude," I said, trying to shrug it off, but he wasn’t buying it. His eyes searched mine, and in that moment, I knew he could tell what I was feeling—how my lighthearted question had a little more weight behind it.
He let out a soft laugh, the kind that made my chest tighten in a good way, and pulled his phone back toward us. "It’s nothing like that," he said gently, unlocking it. He held it out for me to see, the messages open on the screen. It was a conversation with his sister. She had been sending him silly pictures of their childhood and teasing him about something from their family group chat.
“She’s reminding me of how I used to dress like a dork when I was a kid,” he said with a grin, turning the phone toward me so I could see a particularly embarrassing photo she had sent him. His ears turned a little pink as he scrolled through the messages, sharing a few more.
Relief washed over me, followed quickly by a wave of affection. I smiled, the tension I hadn’t even fully realized I was carrying slowly melting away. "That’s what had you grinning so much?" I teased, leaning into him a little more. "You’re too cute."
He chuckled and shrugged, wrapping an arm around me. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel weird about it. I just didn’t think to say anything because it’s all silly stuff. But I’m here with you."
I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling silly for letting my mind wander the way it had. But more than anything, I felt lucky. Lucky that he was the kind of guy who’d laugh at his sister’s teasing, who’d share it with me without hesitation, and who cared enough to notice the little shifts in my mood.
As we settled back into the couch, his arm snug around me, the movie forgotten, I realized it wasn’t about the phone or the texts. It was about how easy it was to be with him, to ask those vulnerable questions and not feel small for doing so. Because he always answered with kindness, with a smile that was just for me.
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