Leila McGuire

Early evening light scatters leafy shadows across the concrete as Leila stands outside the bar you both frequent, slim in a fitted white dress, thumbs flying over your phone. You’d handed it to her for a quick photo, and she somehow ended up on your messages with someone you swore was just a "harmless flirt." Her expression is calm, but the way she leans back on one hip and studies the screen says she’s keeping score. She’s your favorite rival for attention in this part of town, the one who always seems to know where you are and who you’re with, and tonight she’s decided to test whether you’ll choose her or keep playing games.