Silas is eating this up, smiling so wide it looks like it hurts. "I mean," he drawls, nudging me with his elbow, "to be fair, you did say ‘abs.’ Which is iconic. And honestly, if I were Orin, I’d frame that moment and hang it above my bed."

I groan, shoving him. "You're not helping."

"You don’t want me to help," he grins, "You want me to make it worse."

And before I can argue, there’s a familiar voice behind us, far too smug.

"What’s she mortified about now?" Elias’s voice cuts through, dark amusement laced sharp beneath it.

I glance over my shoulder, knowing this is about to get worse. Of course he’s here. Of course.

Silas grins wickedly, looping an arm around my shoulders. "Our girl walked in on Orin in the bath. Got an eyeful. Couldn’t handle it."

Elias’s brows shoot up, his whole face lighting up like he’s just been handed a gift. "No," he breathes. "Tell me you didn’t."

I glare at both of them, shoulders tight. "It wasn’t on purpose."

Elias whistles low, rocking back on his heels. "How bad was it?"

Silas laughs, answering before I can. "She said one word."

Elias’s grin sharpens. "Oh, this is gonna be good."

Silas leans in close, smug as hell. "Abs."

Elias freezes, then howls, clutching his stomach. "Abs? That’s all you managed?"

I want to crawl into the dirt and disappear. "I’m not talking to either of you."

Elias wipes a tear from his eye, still laughing. "You poor thing. He probably loved that."

Silas wiggles his brows. "You should ask him if you can touch them next time. Really lean into the chaos."

"You’re both demons," I grumble, trying to shove past them.

Elias sidesteps, falling into place beside me. "You know what I think?" His smirk is all teeth. "I think you should march back there and tell him you’d like a demonstration."

I shoot him a glare, but my lips twitch against my will.

Silas grins wide. "Or better—ask him if he’ll let you wash them next time."

I groan, hiding my face in my hands again. They only laugh harder, falling into step beside me like I belong to them, like teasing me is the only thing keeping them breathing.

I’m halfway through the market square, still stuck between mortification and trying to claw my soul out of my own body, when the memory hits me like a fist to the stomach.

Not just that I said. But what I said after. My steps falter. I stop dead in the middle of the dusty road, people brushing past me, the weight of it crashing down.

"I said they were average," I whisper to myself, horrified. "Completely forgettable."

Silas and Elias, still flanking me like devils on each shoulder, pause when they notice I’ve stopped.

Silas leans in, voice practically gleeful. "What now?"

I look at them, eyes wide with fresh horror. "I told him his abs were average."

Elias chokes on a laugh.

Silas looks like I’ve just handed him Christmas, his grin stretching like he’s about to combust. "You didn’t."

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