“Uh-huh.” She raises a brow. “So, are youactuallygood?”
“I had a good night for once. Just… overthinking, I guess.” I keep my eyes on the pan. Zara doesn’t push. She just gives me the look that says,I see through you, but I’ll let you pretend you’re fine.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” she smirks.
“Like I’m a complicated painting. One that people spend hours staring at because it’s too complex to make sense of.”
Her smile softens. “That’s because youarecomplex,” she bumps her hips with mine. “Humans tend to be.”
“Okay, you’re distracting me,” I mutter, turning the pancake over like it isn’t already beyond saving. “I hate being stared at.”
She snatches the spatula out of my hand. “Just go,philosopher. I’ll finish breakfast before you burn the kitchen down.”
“Okay, rude.” I glare at her.
She takes the pan off the stove and throws the burnt pancake away. Then she turns and looks at me. “Go.”
“It’s not like I’m dying to go anywhere.” I lie, already halfway out.
I’m an idiot.
“Hello,” Matt sings from the doorway as he lets the door slam shut. “Anyone home?”
“I’m literally in your line of sight,” I deadpan.
“Yeah, well, it’s so quiet I might have been hallucinating.” Matt rolls his eyes as he takes his shoes off.
“That just proves you’re the loud one in the apartment.”
He grins. “Aw, just admit you missed me.” He pulls me into a hug. “I was gone forone night.”
I push him away and look at him, annoyed.
Sometimes I’m convinced he’s five in a nineteen-year-old body.
“How was the trip?”
“It was fine.”
“How is Mama Kowalski doing?”
“She’s fine,” he plops his bag on the floor, and walks towards his room.
I follow him.
“So, are you gonna disappear into your room with some excuse again today?” He jokes, but I can see the slight concern in his eyes.
“No, I actually had a really good night,” I tell him honestly, for once, sitting on his bed and resting on the wall. “And, ah, sorry, by the way. For being a jerk. I think I was so focused on something else that I forgot the rest of my life mattered too.”
Matt raises his brows. “Do I want to know?”
“When do younotwant to know?”
“True,” he smiles, and I groan. “So… will you tell me?”
“No.”
