Page 133 of Glitched Play

Normally I'd already be mentally reorganizing the room before taking another step.

Instead, my attention keeps moving until it finds her.

Maci stands in the center of the disaster holding a wooden spoon like she's forgotten what it's for. Her pink hair has escaped its messy bun, loose strands curling around her face. There's flour across one cheek, a tiny smear of tomato sauce near her elbow, and she has somehow managed to get a fingerprint of what looks like marinara on the front of her T-shirt.

She looks exhausted.

Hopeful.

Mortified.

And unbelievably adorable.

The kitchen disappears and all I see is her.

The moment our eyes meet, her shoulders drop. "I'm sorry."

The words come so quickly they tumble over each other.

"I wanted to surprise you, and then the rice... honestly, I don't know what happened to the rice. I think it declared independence. Then the chicken burned, and I thought I could save the sauce, but apparently tomato sauce has a violent streak, and I kept thinking if I cleaned fast enough you'd never know⁠—"

She stops talking long enough to look around the kitchen.

Fresh panic floods her expression.

"Oh no."

She presses one flour-covered hand against her forehead. "I knew it looked bad, but not like a Minecraft Creeper got splattered.” Her voice grows quieter. "I'll clean all of it."

Another shaky breath before she says, "If something's ruined, I'll replace it."

She swallows.

"If... if you don't want me staying here anymore..."

The words barely make it out.

"I'll find a place."

For one suspended moment, everything inside me goes still.

She thinks that's what this is about.

Not the kitchen.

Not the food.

She's afraid I've stopped wanting her here.

I set the suitcase carefully against the wall before walking toward her.

She doesn't move.

She simply watches me with wide, uncertain eyes, as if she's already preparing herself for disappointment.

"I know this is a lot," she whispers.

"It is."