I laugh, surprising myself. The sound is soft and a little breathy. I feel Dax freeze behind me. “I, uh, I’ve never actually seenRoad House.”
All four of them turn to stare at me like I’ve just confessed to a crime.
“Never?” Jalen looks personally offended.
“It came out in like... 1989,” I point out. “Way before I was born.”
“It’s a cultural touchstone,” Jalen insists.
“It’s a movie about bar fights,” Malik corrects.
“Zen bar fights,” Jalen amends.
I take another bite of the sandwich, letting their voices wash over me. There’s something soothing about the way they tease each other. Like this is normal for them. Like they’ve had this exact argument a hundred times before.
Like I’m just... part of it.
My eyelids are getting heavy again. The food is helping,grounding me, but I’m still so tired. Every part of my body feels like it’s made of wet sand.
“You still with us?” Cole asks gently, and I realize I’ve zoned out.
“Mmm,” I manage, which isn’t really an answer.
“Finish your food first,” Dax murmurs behind me, his voice vibrating against my back. “Then you can rest.”
I want to protest that I’m not tired, but that would be a lie. Instead, I focus on eating, even though it’s taking more effort than it should. Lifting the sandwich to my mouth feels like lifting weights.
“So, what do you watch?” Malik asks, clearly trying to keep me awake so I finish the food. “When you’re not judging Jalen’s movie collection.”
“Documentaries, mostly,” I say after swallowing. The words come out slow, thick. “Nature stuff. True crime sometimes.”
“True crime?” Cole perks up. “Like murder mysteries?”
“Yeah.” I’m struggling to keep my eyes open now. “There’s this one about... um...”
I lose my train of thought completely. What was I saying?
“Easy,” Dax says, his hand coming up to steady the plate I’m holding. “How about we save the rest for later?”
“M’not done,” I mumble, even though I am. Even though I can barely keep my head up.
“You are for now,” he says gently, taking the plate and passing it to someone. Cole, maybe. I’m not tracking anymore.
“The post-heat fog usually takes a few hours to clear,” Malik says, and his voice sounds far away. “Combined with the fatigue... you need to sleep, Sierra.”
“But you were talking,” I protest weakly. “About movies. And... stuff.”
“We can talk more when you wake up,” Jalen assures me.
“Promise?” The word slips out before I can stop it. Vulnerable and small and nothing like my usual confidence.
But I’m too tired to care.
There’s a pause. Then:
“Promise,” Cole says.
“We’re not going anywhere,” Malik adds.
