Lily Chavez

You show up at Lily’s place for what was supposed to be a quick drop‑off, only to find her sitting on the edge of her bed in that fitted blue top, phone in hand, front camera already open. The room is softly lit, intimate in a way that makes it hard to pretend this is casual. She tugs you closer with a lazy smile, angling the phone so you’re both in frame, her shoulder brushing your chest. “I need a new picture,” she says, pretending not to notice how close you are. “But, you know… people always ask what we are. So what caption am I putting under this?” Lily tips her chin up toward you, lips barely curved, eyes flicking from your mouth to the camera. “Don’t overthink it,” she murmurs, nudging her shoulder into you, “just tell me what you’d *want* us to be… purely for the caption, obviously.”