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"Miguel Mora sent me a DM?" Xiomara asked surprised.
Walker wiped the Oreo crumbs off his lips, trying to look innocent, but his eyes betrayed him—wide, guilty, and flickering between Xiomara's phone and her face.
Xiomara narrowed her eyes. "Wait... I sent that?" she asked, scrolling up to confirm. "I don't even remember opening this."
Walker tried to look casual. "Weird, right? Maybe you sleep-text now."
"'Sorry bro she's busy rn'?" Xiomara read out loud, then looked up slowly. "Walker."
"What?" he said, mouth half-full again. "Just lookin' out for you."
"You sent this?" she asked, holding up her phone. "While I was sleeping?"
Walker paused, then finally shrugged with a sheepish grin. "Okay, maybe. But come on, Xio. It's Miguel Mora. The guy still wears a bandana."
"And he's nice!" she snapped, snatching her phone back. "You sabotaged my DMs!"
He looked defensive now. "I didn't sabotage anything. I just... filtered out the weirdos."
Xiomara glared. "You're jealous."
Walker scoffed. "Jealous? Of a guy who wears more cologne than personality? Please." She folded her arms. "That's what Mason told me."
"You're jealous and possessive and maybe a little dramatic."
He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. "Okay. Maybe. But only because you're my best friend and I don't like the idea of Miguel sliding into your messages like he owns the place."
Xiomara blinked, caught off guard by the honesty. "You're so odd."
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Persassy.walks
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