Yvaine tried to deny it but failed.
Then she let out a weird giggle.
"I may have started seeing someone. Just casually. Definitely not living together. I've just been busy, that's all."
"Wait, what?" I sat forward. "Who is he?"
"Here, look."
She pulled out her phone and shoved the screen in my face.
A selfie of a baby-faced guy with ridiculously symmetrical features stared back at me. Full lips. Strong brows. Zero pores.
I squinted. "I've seen him before. Isn't he one of those online boys who lip-sync and flex shirtless?"
"That's him," she said, beaming. "He's got two hundred K followers."
"Is he actually that good-looking in real life? Or is it just lighting and filters? And isn't he, like, eighteen? What the hell does an eighteen-year-old want from you if not
