“Show me the text.”
“I’d rather not,” I said.
“I’ll just bug you about it until you do.”
“I’m not someone who lets other people read my text messages.”
She extended her hand across the table, palm open.
“What could be more important than family? We’ve known each other our entire lives, dear cousin Cecelia,” she said this as though she was in a play in high school, giving me imploring and overdramatic gestures. “I say that blood equals trust.”
“That doesn’t make me want to do it any more than before.”
“Hand it over, cuz.”
“Not gunna happen,” I said with some decisiveness that made her eyes change for a second. It was like a flicker and suddenly I thought about everything that had just happened to her. “Fine,” I said.
I handed her my phone and she took it. “Passcode?”
I told her. She scrolled around for a few seconds. “I can tell you don’t do this. Most people will open up the person’s messages for you. Now I can see all your stuff even on accident and who knows what’s just hanging out there.”