Page 65 of Touch the Sky

“My friend.” I wait a couple seconds and then can’t help adding, “Right?”

Tess watches me with a guarded expression for a moment before she answers.

“Right.”

She rolls her shoulders back before fishing her carabiner out from under her blazer. The stack of keys and gadgets strung along the metal jangle together.

“So, as my friend,” she says, “do you want to come see the house?”

I guess that’s a normal thing for friends to do: go over to each other’s houses after driving home from a party together. Maybe it’s not so normal that our houses are attached, but really, this isn’t any different from stopping in at Maddie or Natalie’s place.

If I said no, I’d be the weird one here.

“Uh, sure,” I say. “Yeah, I do.”

She turns to lead the way along the path to the back. The earth is hard beneath my feet, nearly frozen in the fall weather.

I really should get the path covered in concrete. Tess and Shel deserve more than a dirt trail to their front door.

We reach the small wooden landing, and I wait down on the grass while Tess gets the door unlocked. She reaches to flip a light switch on once she’s stepped inside. I squint into the sudden glare.

“Like I said, it’s a work in progress,” she says as I follow her in. “Ignore the boxes, okay?”

There’s a stack of brown cardboard moving boxes in a corner of the living room, but besides that, the place looks so cozy I could swear she’s been living here for years.

Gingham curtains frame the kitchen window, where a collection of mason jars on the sill hold some dainty sprigs of Queen Anne’s Lace. The walls are hung with a few photos of Tess, Shel, and what looks to be some of their family members, as well as a selection of thrift store art I remember watching Tess and Shel unload last week. There’s a sepia-toned print of some sunflowers hanging over the couch, as well as a scientific-looking poster of different frog species tacked up over the mini fridge.

I grin as I imagine how excited Shel must have been to find that one at the thrift shop.

A crystal sun catcher in the window reflects a few glimmers of moonlight, spilling them across the round wooden dining table. Tess has only got the light by the door on, so most of the room is still dim, adding to the cozy effect.

“Bien fait,” I congratulate her, clapping my hands a few times. “It looks great in here.”

She gives me a small smile that almost looks shy.

“Thanks,” she says. “I’m not much of a decorator, but I wanted it to feel homey for Shel.”

“Are you kidding?” I demand. “You did awesome. If I didn’t know better, I’d think some Pinterest queen farm wife set this place up. It’s so cute!”

I take a step forward and then hesitate before Tess sweeps her arm out in a go-ahead gesture. I kick my shoes off and then do a lap around the space, taking in all the details. There’s a floral rug laid out under the red couch that’s just saggy enough to be the perfect place to flop down for a nap or a movie night.

“So Shel has the loft?” I ask, pausing at the bottom of the staircase.

Tess nods. “As if I had a choice. Living in a loft is like eighty percent of her personality at the moment.”

I laugh and keep moving around the room. The bedroom door is resting half-open, the space beyond it too dark to see into.

“And so this is yours?”

Obviously it’s her room. There’s only one bedroom.

“Uh, yeah,” she says.

She’s still standing all the way over by the door.

“Honestly, it’s a total disaster zone,” she tells me. “It’s where I’ve been shoving everything I don’t have a place for yet. I barely have room to get into bed.”

Bed.