Then his phone rang. Her face lit up the screen.
He didn’t notice the missing ‘C’. Hit send. Tossed his phone on the couch. knock knock hot
Mia stood there in her pajama shorts and an old band tee, hair in a messy bun, clutching her own bag of Knock Knock Chicken. Her cheeks were pink — from the cold night air, or maybe something else. Then his phone rang
“What if I’m not?”
“Knock knock hot? Leo, are you drunk-texting a porno?” hair in a messy bun
“Shut up,” she said. Her voice was quiet. Not angry. Different. “Open the door.”
“No, no. I’m invested now. Finish the joke. Knock knock.”