“He would,” Trevor interjects, blissfully oblivious to our tension. “This guy talked me off a ledge when I failed organic chemistry. Literally saved my premed dreams.”
Bailey’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “How noble.”
“How’s the new job?” Trevor asks her. “You started this week, right?”
Her gaze flickers to me, then away. “It’s… interesting.”
“She’s too modest,” I hear myself say. “Her work is impressive.”
Trevor’s head whips toward me. “Wait. You know about her job?”
Bailey’s eyes go wide.
“I mean—” I scramble for cover, “—Trevor mentioned you were in graphic design. I’m familiar with the industry.”
“Right.” She nods too quickly. “Common field.”
Trevor looks between us, his expression shifting. “Huh.”
An aunt descends on us before the silence can stretch too long, pulling Trevor away to settle some debate about whose potato salad is better. He goes reluctantly, mouthing ‘Help’ as he gets dragged away.
Bailey and I stand frozen, a careful three feet between us. It's close enough for us to talk, yet far enough to maintain plausible deniability.
“So,” she croaks. “This is awkward.”
“That’s one word for it.”
“How long have you—” She stops, starts again. “Trevor is your best friend.”
“Apparently, you’re his sister.”
“I’ve been his sister longer than you’ve been his friend.”
Despite everything, my mouth twitches. “Valid point.”
She crosses her arms.
“We can’t tell him.”
“Obviously.”
“I’m serious, Daniel. He’ll kill you. Maybe me too, but definitely you.”
“I’m aware.”
“He has this whole thing about—”
“About not touching his sister. I know. He’s been clear on that point for the last fifteen years.”
Her eyes narrow. “Fifteen years?”
“We met freshman year.”
“Jesus.” She runs a hand through her hair, the gesture pulling her shirt tighter. I look away, jaw clenched. “This is a disaster.”
“Agreed.”
Based on the resemblance, an older woman, probably one of Trevor’s aunts, shuffles over, smiling warmly with curious eyes.
