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I immediately struggle with being bored out of my mind. I know what a slip knot is. I know how to hold the hook. I yawn, and set the phone down anyway, propped up with the stand that's built into my phone case.

I sit there, sipping, shivering, and struggling. There are mosquitos out here too, and I haven’t done anything to protect myself from those pesky little monsters. Why did I think this was a good idea tonight? I haven’t been home all that much lately, and I could be enjoying my couch or my bed. I could be soaking up quality time with those places while I actually can. There’s no saying I’ll be safe here tonight, I might still have to evacuate. I’m hopeful at the moment because her car is gone.

I know better than to assume that hope will last.

A text message pings on my phone, and I sigh as I close out of the video to open it. I’m not giving up, but I know how unlikely my chances are of going back to it now that I have something else to distract me.

It’s from Caleb, and the message consists of a group of photos. It’s Dahlia, sleeping on his couch. She’s sprawled out on her back with an arm above her head and the other around an orange blob of fur that’s resting its head on her stomach. I swipe to the next photo, a close up of the… cat. I do the math, and assume that this is Raquel’s kitten. I guess cats grow pretty fast, because this thing is huge compared to the photos on her Instagram.

Caleb:Meet Gouda. He’s obsessed with Lia

I chuckle at the name. Then I smile to myself. It’s pretty darn cute, the two of them curled up on the couch. I’m sad I’m missing it in person. The only other cat she’s met is Autumn’s cat, Elaine, but she hardly counts. Especially since moving in with Miles and Freddy, she’s a bit insane.

Reya: Thanks for sharing

Caleb: Of course

It’s the most civil we’ve been over text in a long time, and maybe I’m just tired, but I soften towards him a small amount. I give him two points before the moment has passed and I change my mind.

I need more of this. I want him to include me in more things, and give me more reasons to trust him. If this was our new norm, maybe I wouldn’t freak out over the idea of him taking her out of the country.

Maybe that’s the only reason he sent the photos in the first place.

I shut my eyes tight, ridding that thought from my brain. I don’t have to assume. I don’t have to think the worst of him. It’s just so hard sometimes.

I’m so invested in my line of thinking, that my brain lags when trying to process a new sound in the background. A thumping sound? Or a banging? Someone downstairs being noisy?

Only when it gets closer do I realize it’s the stairs.Feeton the stairs.

Oh crap, oh crap,oh crap.

I don’t have time to move, or feel less vulnerable, when a hooded figure appears a few feet away.

She freezes. I’m also frozen.

This isweird.Weeks have gone by without us running into each other, and here she suddenly is? It doesn’t really feel real.

“You,” I say, fueled by my surprise. It practically comes out as a shout.

Her eyes widen, but I have a feeling the reaction has more to do with my chaotic energy than her being affected by us meeting face to face. She looks around the space of our front porch, like there might possibly be an explanation–or an escape–but her eyes land back on me.

“Yeah?”

Her voice is higher pitched than I’d imagined. Almost sweet. Almost innocent. Her face is covered in darkness, thanks to the hood over her head. She’s smarter and significantly warmer than I am right now.

“You’re not a ghost,” I blurt out.

“Sure I am,” she replies quickly. “It’s dark out here, you don’t know what you’re seeing.”

Her gaze flits towards her front door. I see the disappointment on her face that she isn’t walking through it at the moment.

I make a show of looking her up and down. As if she doesn’t care that I want to see more of her, she sighs and removes her hood. Lots of deep, red hair falls down and takes up most of my attention at first. It’s bouncy. It looks soft. I’m almost envious of it, wishing my own hair would grow out faster.

I should probably invest in some fancy shampoo or something, too. I bet her shampoo costs a fortune.

And then I look at her face.

And I’m left even more stunned. I don’t even worry about the repercussions of standing from my seat to walk closer to her. She takes a step back when I’m only a couple away, so that’s where I plant my feet and hope my legs don’t wobble. I don't trust them, or really any part of my body at the moment. Whatever’s happening to me isn’t normal.