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“So you’re the reason we were having so many sleepovers with our girls? Now I imagine you’re the reason we haven’t seen them in a couple weeks.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s all probably true,” she mumbles.

“Okay, that’s enough. You met her, now you’ve got to go so I can get ready for work.”

I resort to actually ushering them out with hands on their backs, and they pretend they’re offended. Or maybe they’reactuallyoffended, but I don’t have time to care.

“Reya Renee, what has gotten into you?” my mom asks.

I get them through the door and close it behind us before responding.

“I don’t need Caleb or Dahlia to know she’s staying the night,” I whisper. “We’re not there yet.”

“Are you trying to get there?” she asks.

I sigh, attempting to let all the defeat I’ve felt this entire morning seep out with it.

“I don’t think it’s on the table. We’re not serious or anything,” I explain. “Is that enough now? Can you see yourselves out so I’m not any later to work than I’m already going to be?”

That would be too easy. They take a while to chat with Caleb and Raquel, and they ignore all the signs I’m giving them. Saying it outright won’t work either, they’re determined to act like my time and space don’t matter.

After another twenty minutes, I finally fly through my room like a hurricane trying to get dressed and do my makeup. Kara laughs at me the whole time, finding every bit of it amusing. She heard our conversations, the little eavesdropper she is, but thankfully didn’t have too much to say on it. I’ve had enough outside input for the rest of the week.

22

Kara is napping in my bed when I get home from work. Her red hair is splayed all over the place, and I watch as her chest slowly rises and falls. It’s both chaotic and peaceful, and I want in on it.

As quietly as I possibly can, I slip off my shoes and slide under the covers next to her.

Apparently she wasn’t very deeply asleep, because she wraps her arms around me. It’s more comfortable than I knew her capable of.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

Okay, this has to be the twin.

“Not really.”

“Do you want some space?”

I grab her forearm, and hug it like I’m a koala and it’s a tree.

“No, please don’t leave.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

It’s that painless.

It’s weird, but not weird enough to keep my exhaustion at bay.

We fall asleep just like that and wake up when it’s still dark out. My stomach grumbles, and I have a feeling it’s been even longer since she’s eaten anything.

I make us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and grab a bag of chips from my pantry. We move our hang out to the couch while we eat, and watch some reality competition show she’s into. I watch her more than I watch what’s happening in it.

She takes smile bites of her food, chews them slowly, and slightly faces away from me as she does. It makes me stress over whoever made her feel self conscious about the way she eats. Not wanting to make her anymore uncomfortable, I dart my eyes away whenever she turns her face back and hope it was fast enough for her to miss.

Her whole body seems to relax once her plate is empty. She smiles at my television, especially when a certain person pops up on the screen. She scowls when they interact with another: some douchey guy. It’s cute. It’s innocent. It’s normal.

Everything about being around her lately has felt normal, and comfortable, and… kind of like we’re in an actual relationship.