Emma stared at the blank call screen for half a heartbeat, only half, before her instincts finally caught up, tackled her, and screamed in her ear:
You fool. You absolute frostbitten FOOL. That was flirting. FLIRTING.
Her eyes widened.
Her ears flattened.
Her tail twitched on a spiritual level.
"Wait... WAIT!"
Everything she'd just said replayed in her head like a cruel highlight reel.
'I'll try not to stare too hard if the robe is short.'
'Good weird.'
'Goodnight… Ethan.'
Her whole soul curled into a tight ball of secondhand embarrassment.
"Nope." She sat up so fast she nearly fell off the bed. "Nope. Nope. Nope. I am not doing this. I am NOT..."
And then she realized.
Her finger was still hovering over the 'End Call' button.
And it was still green.
Still active.
Still connected.
Her heart plummeted.
"…Ethan?" she whispered, praying, begging, bargaining with fate that he hadn't heard any of that internal meltdown leaking out.
