Tessa
"Ooh, Moisturizing Mango or Brightening Berry?"
Ruthie turns and holds up a soft yellow facemask packet with a beehive in the center. "What about Hydrating Honey?"
I narrow my eyes at all of our choices, then glance back at her. We both nod, giggling as we grab handfuls of each of the colorful packages hanging on the wall in front of us.
"This is going to be so much better than playing Candy Land like Dad suggested," Ruthie says, tossing the packets into the cart.
"Stop," I say, pausing with both hands on the handle. "He did not."
We walk further down the aisle as Ruthie's eyes grow wide. "I know," she says dramatically. "I love him, but come on… board games? Could you imagine?"
"Fun fact," I say, smiling at the memory. "My sister Jo begged us to play Chutes and Ladders with her until she was like fifteen."
Her mouth drops open. "Seriously?" she asks. "Wait, is this the same one who made you have a food fight on your birthday?"
It takes me a minute to remember the first conversation we had about my sister, but when I realize what she's talking about, I nod.
"Hmm… sounds like she didn't want to grow up anymore than Dad wants me to."
I stop, pausing in the middle of the aisle. "Huh, I never thought of it like that." Ruthie shrugs. "Jo just doesn't like anything mainstream.If other people think it's cool, she automatically hates it. If it's new, she assumes it's terrible. If it's popular or branded, it's instantly overrated."
Ruthie tilts her head. "That's really strange."
I laugh at her honesty. "Yeah, it kind of is."
"Well, if we did board games," she says, circling back to how this whole thing started. She reaches out and runs her hand against a stack of fuzzy pink robes hanging within reach. "The girls would totally think I was lame."
I wince at the thought that Ruthie's friends could think she was anything but perfect. "Well, I never thought Jo was lame. A little strange maybe. But it's cool to be different."
She scoffs quietly. "I think I'm different enough." Her expression is casual, but I notice the way her cheeks flush ever so slightly.
We walk toward the snacks. "What do you mean?" I question as we reach the first end cap.
She lifts one shoulder, brushing it off again, but her eyes are full of a worry that wasn't there before. "I don't know."
We head down the first aisle where every flavor chip is on display, and I weigh my options. Do I let it go or press her to answer so I can help somehow? But before I can decide, her face lights up, grabbing my attention.
"Cheese Balls!" Ruthie yells, diving toward a giant cylinder container.
I laugh at her choice—and the change in conversation. "Should we get those?" I ask.
She groans. "Dad never lets me. He says they're not healthy… just orange-dusted styrofoam."
I purse my lips. "Well, yeah, that's true."
Ruthie's shoulders fall as the corners of her mouth turn down again, and she walks past the plastic tubs.
"But that's why they're so delicious," I sing before she gets too far away.
She whips around, her face bright.
I remember back to when I told Liam I'd follow his lead. So far, I think I've done a pretty good job at maintaining his rules and upholding his expectations. But if some fake cheese-flavored air can make Ruthie'sday—and reset her mood from whatever just shifted it—is it really worth denying her?
"Toss them in," I say, nodding toward the cart.
"Seriously?"
