I snort. “You should.”
“You’ve never hurt me.”
My throat tightens. I look away, eyes trained on the flicker of my cigarette. “Yet.”
She shifts beside me, her shoulder brushing mine. “You never thought someone could want both sides of you, huh?”
The question stings. I don’t know if I believe Icanbe wanted fully.
“You ever going to let Carter see this side of you when we’re all together?” she asks.
I look down at the cigarette between my fingers. “Maybe.”
She shifts again, her knee brushing mine. “I like this side.”
“I don’t.”
“But I do.”
I drop the cigarette into the ashtray, let it burn out.
When we head back inside, the apartment smells like garlic and roasted veggies. Carter’s at the stove, humming away something off-key,
“You’re early,” he says, not looking up. “I wasn’t done plating your ego.”
Haven snorts beside me.
Carter continues. “You two were outside long enough for a whole therapy session, so I figured someone should make dinner.”
“Could’ve stuck your head out the door,” I grunt, kicking off my boots. “Or set something on fire.”
Haven leans around him, grabbing a carrot slice straight from the pan and popping it into her mouth with a smug little grin. “You’re both very pretty when you bicker,” she says, licking her finger.
Carter blushes. I roll my eyes.
We eat curled up in the living room, Haven’s legs are draped across both our laps. She steals bites from Carter’s plate, makes a face at mine, and tells us both that if she wins the finals she’s buying a real table.
“You mean we don’t get one already?” Carter asks, dramatically gasping.
“I thought this couchwasthe dining room,” I grin.
Haven snorts, her laugh half-choked on a sip of water. “Okay. Okay, you’re both banned from speaking until dessert.”
After we finish eating and Carter shoves us out of the kitchen so he can do his controlled chaos cleaning as he likes to refer to is as we’re sprawled back out on the couch together, a movie playing in the background, none of us really watching. Carter’s head is tipped back against the armrest with his eyes half-closed. Haven’s tucked against his side, her feet resting in my lap and her hand tangled loosely with mine.
I don’t know when the silence happened, but it’s nice, comfortable.
So comfortable, in fact, that I don’t even realize I’m drifting until my neck starts to ache and Haven’s hand tightens against mine. “Fuck,” I mumble. “What time is it?”
“Late,” Carter yawns.
We all look at each other, then at the clock then back to the couch. It’s a graveyard of limbs and pillows and warmth, and none of us want to move.
But eventually Carter groans, shifting first. “Alright, alright. Bed. I’ve got a spine to protect.”
I yawn. “Look at you, making grown-up decisions little brother.”
He gives me a look. “You taking the bed tonight or the mattress?”
