“You’re smudging mud on my face, I think I—”
“Clay,” Lilia corrects again, her voice firm.
Bea leans back on her elbows, shaking her head. “I give it ten minutes before you regret this.”
“Done!” Lilia announces suddenly, tossing the brush into the tub with a flourish. She grabs me by the shoulders, turning my face toward the nearest lamp like she’s revealing a masterpiece. Her grin spreads wide. “Flawless, Adeline darling. Absolutely radiant.”
I blink at her through the thin film of green, feeling like a swamp creature dragged out of the river. “I look like Shrek.”
“Shrek was iconic,” she says matter-of-factly, patting my cheek.
Bea snorts. “Yeah. Green and terrifying. Nailed it.”
Kym doesn’t say a word. She just watches from the beanbag, arms crossed, mask cracking slightly at the corner of her mouth.
Lilia collapses onto the bed in a heap of blankets, dragging me with her. Somehow, Bea lets herself get pulled in next, laptop in hand, and Kym—after a long pause—sighs and climbs up too, perching stiffly on the edge until Lilia yanks her further in.
To my surprise, we all fit. Barely. It’s limbs tangled in blankets and the occasional elbow to the ribs, but we fit. Bea ends up in the middle; laptop balanced on her knees as she scrolls through Netflix.
“Absolutely not,” she mutters, flicking past a cheesy romcom. “I’d rather die.”
“Hey! I love romcoms!” Lilia argues, propping her chin on Bea’s shoulder.
“Not in my house,” Bea says firmly.
“This is my house,” Lilia fires back.
Bea doesn’t bother arguing—she just keeps scrolling, and Lilia, clearly offended, yanks the laptop straight out of her hands.
“Move,” she says, balancing it on her knees and flicking through titles. “We should do a Harry Potter marathon.”
I sit up a little. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”
Bea groans, but it’s half-hearted. “Fine. Whatever.”
From the corner, Kym clears her throat. “I’ve never watched it.”
The room goes dead silent.
Lilia freezes mid-scroll, eyes snapping to her. Bea’s head turns slowly to her, wide-eyed, and even I can feel my jaw drop a little.
“You’ve never—” Lilia starts, voice pitching higher than usual. “Not even one?”
Kym shakes her head once, perfectly calm. “Not even one.”
We all just stare at her.
“Okay,” Bea says finally, shutting the popcorn lid with a snap. “Forget everything else. This just became mandatory.”
Lilia looks almost manic with glee. “We are fixing you tonight.”
Kym blinks at the three of us, unmoved. “That sounds like a threat.”
“It is,” Lilia says sweetly, already cueing up the first movie.
***
Morning comes, but it doesn’t feel like morning.
