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I tuck the strings of my sweatpants into the waistband and open my door slowly. It’s silent, so I slip into the hallway, eyes set on the bathroom?—

“Good morning.”

I jump and spin, my hand slapping at the wall to stabilize myself. Bryce watches me with a straight face, a coffee mug in her hands. Her outfit is the same one she’s worn every day since I’ve been here, but I swear it keeps getting worse. I know that shirt has to be itchy.

“Morning!” I cheer, cupping my throat where I can feel my pulse hammering away.

“Was I loud?”

“What?”

She shifts, putting her weight on one foot. “Was I loud enough to wake you up?”

“Oh. No, you weren’t.”

Nodding, she looks past me at the empty hall, fingers tapping her mug. My lips twitch at her shifty behaviour.

“Did I wakeyou?” I ask.

She blinks, looking at me again. “What? No. I work at eight.”

I don’t bother telling her that I already know that. I’ve heard her leave the house at seven forty-five every single day. She’s nothing if not punctual.

“Do you walk or drive to work?”

“Walk.”

“Fancy some company this morning?”

Her eyes widen slightly, but she recovers quickly, clearing her throat. “Nobody will be up and watching this early.”

“Are we not allowed to get to know each other while we’re doing this? If I don’t know anything about you, I won’t be able to make the relationship look genuine. My brother will know something’s off right away.”

She scrolls her eyes down my body, and suddenly, I feel like a complete slob. The baggy shirt and sweatpants I pulled on are nothing compared to her proper clothes, even if they are completely wrong for her.

The jean skirt from yesterday is long gone, replaced with a long, loose one that’s only an inch from dragging on the floor. Her blouse is ridiculous and hides all of the artwork that I now know lies beneath. It feels like a crime to hide such beautiful designs with something my great-grandmother would probably turn her nose up at.

“Why do you agree to wear that?” I blurt out. With a wince, I add, “I mean, it’s just notyou. Not at all.”

She slides a finger into the collar of her shirt and pulls at it as if that’s the only way she can breathe properly. “I pick my battles.”

It’s a rehearsed line that I’d bet she’s spoken a million times. When I don’t look convinced, she grips the fabric of her skirt and lifts it to expose her from the knee down. The black cowboy boots on her feet have me giggling.

“I rebel in my own way, Sunshine,” she states.

I stare at her boots, lips spread into a smile. “I see that.”

She appears more relaxed now, just a fraction of her icy exterior warming. “If you’re walking with me, we leave in five. The first thing you need to know about me is that I don’t like to be late to anything.”

“Got it. I’ll put something else on and meet you by the door.”

I’m already halfway to my room when she says, “Don’t change. You look fine the way you are.”

I lift a brow and glance at her over my shoulder. “Like I’ve just rolled out of bed?”

“Like you don’t feel the need to dress to impress anyone. Let alone on a walk to the town office at 8:00 a.m.” She puts her weight on her other foot. “It’s nice.”

I can’t help the way my chest warms at her words. A subtle compliment from Bryce? Yeah, I think I’ll survive the next few weeks. It feels good to hear that from her.