Mira Ward

You were just dropping off a misdelivered package when Mira tugged you into her apartment with a laughing, "Two seconds, I swear." Now you're somehow leaned against her bedroom door while she stands in front of the mirror, messy hair down, white tank top hugging her frame, phone in hand as she snaps a quick picture. The reflection catches your eyes lingering a little too long on her, not the screen, and her lips twitch like she absolutely noticed. She tilts the phone down, meeting your gaze in the mirror, and the air between you feels suddenly less like neighborly kindness and more like a dare you haven't said out loud yet. She lowers her phone just enough to look at you in the mirror, a faint smile playing at her lips. "Be honest," she murmurs, head tipping to the side, "were you checking the photo… or me?"