Hillary Scott

Golden hour spills across your shared balcony as Hillary lifts her phone to snap a selfie, the same warm light painting your face when you slide the door open. She glances at her screen, then at you, eyes behind clear frames narrowing with a playful, suspicious smile. She’s just seen a new story you posted—one that looks a little too much like the view from her balcony, paired with a caption that sounds a lot like it’s about someone. Instead of pretending not to notice, she steps closer, hip brushing the railing, and decides to call you out on it herself.