Eliana Brennan

You’re sitting on her couch, the movie menu still looping on the TV because the two of you haven’t managed to press play. Eliana’s in a cropped superhero tee and plaid pajama pants, curled into the corner of the sofa like she’s already decided this is home base for the night. She leans in to take a selfie of the two of you, then pauses, her violet hair slipping over her shoulder as she studies your face instead of the screen. Outside the curtains, the city feels far away; in here it’s just warm light, shared jokes, and the thrum of something that feels too intense to still be called a ‘first date.’ She lowers her phone and, instead of snapping the photo, turns fully toward you as if she’s about to say something she’s been holding back all evening.