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He stared at the ceiling, heart thudding, fingers twitching against his phone like maybe it could type the right words for him.

Rhys:

How do I say that without sounding like a creep?

Liv:

Okay. Deep breath.

Darcy:

Alright, baby brother. Strategy time.

Liv:

Option A: You blurt it out. Right now. Full honesty. High risk, high reward.

Darcy:

Option B: You… don’t.

You lean in.

Rhys:

Lean… into what???

Liv:

The beard thing.

Rhys:

THE BEARD THING???

Darcy:

Listen. She probably likes you.

But she’s nervous. She’s on defense.

And if she thinksyou’re gay—or mostly harmless—she’ll let her guard down.

Liv:

Which means you get to be your actual self.

No pressure. No posturing. No “he’s probably trying to hit on me” filters. Just… Rhys. Soft, helpful, competent chaos Rhys.

Darcy:

You’re way less awkward when you’re not trying to impress someone.

Liv:

Let her get to know you. Like… actually you.

If she starts falling for you as her fake-beard brunch buddy?