Selfie Spy

Alexis Tae and Anna Claire Clouds are in the bedroom. Anna is slipping into a black dress for a date while Alexis scrolls through her own phone, pissed she can’t land one. Anna tells her the problem isn’t her looks—it's the picture on her profile. She snatches the phone, squints at the shot, and declares it trash. Alexis shrugs, says she’ll try new angles, right here, because the light is perfect. Anna sighs, wants privacy to change, but Alexis promises to face the wall. Deal made. Alexis lifts the phone, checks her reflection, then catches Anna in the lens—smooth brown skin sliding free of cotton, the dress hanging loose. No shutter clicks. Just quiet appreciation. Anna finishes fastening the clasp at her neck, turns, and catches the screen aimed straight at her. She crosses the room, plucks the phone from Alexis’s hand, checks the roll. Empty. “You’re just watching me,” she says. Alexis’s cheeks burn. She mumbles something about better lighting for selfies, but the lie dies quick. Anna sets the phone down, steps closer. “If you wanted to look, you could’ve said so.” The space between them shrinks. Heat replaces excuses. Anna’s mouth brushes Alexis’s ear. “Cancel my plans,” she whispers. “I’m staying in.”