He snags my phone from the coffee table and steps back out of my reach, making me barrel over the table to grab it from him and shove it back in my jeans. But the damage is already done. He saw the screen and the notifications waiting there for me. I’m sure there’s plenty of them. Why did I leave it out for him to see, like a damn idiot? His hand is still held out, though my phone’s safely in my pocket now. The expression on his face is blank, devoid of all emotion as he blinks. Then blinks again before he looks up at me.
