“Okay,” Kiara says as she reads the last question. “You got this.”
Noah straightens and rolls his shoulders.
“Third Kardashian sister.”
“Kim.”
“No, the other one!”
“Kourtney.”
“No!”
I watch Noah’s soul leave his body.
“Couple seconds!” Maddy warns.
“Kate?”
“No.”
“Kayla?”
“NO!” Kiara looks like she might combust.
“And time is almost—” Maddy starts.
“KHLOE!”
Kiara launches out of her chair. “YES!”
Noah yells like he just won a championship and in that exact moment the last grain of sand drops. Kiara slaps Noah’s hand in a brutal high five, spinning in circles. Mel laughs so hard she doesn’t even care they lost. In the corner of my eye, I catch Luke laughing to himself over by the grill, clearly used to this chaos.
For the rest of the night, conversation drifts easily—town gossip, stupid teachers, whatever nonsense we feel like arguing about. More and more old memories come to the surface. Like our short-lived cereal box phase. When Kiara, Maddy, and I tried to build some ridiculous tower in the grocery store aisle. It collapsed almost instantly, cereal boxes everywhere while Liam laughed so hard he had to crouch down. And Mel and Noah ended up apologizing to the employee like exhausted parents pretending they didn’t raise us.
I glance across the table and catch Maddy mid-laugh, head tipped back, eyes squinting, dimples fully out. Just like Noah always does. Just like her mom always did.
She notices me looking. “What?”
“Nothing.” I shrug. She rolls her eyes and turns back to the conversation. I lean back in my chair, beer loose in my hand, watching everyone talk over each other.
Same people. Same place. Can’t complain.
4
RYAN
Everyone knows thatoneKarin
I get home from the gym, fresh off the Friday afternoon rush from hell. My shirt is glued to my back and my legs are threatening to quit on me.
My house sits tucked into a quiet street. The paint’s a little worn, and there’s a warm light glowing through the windows.
I dig the keys out of my pocket when I see Mrs. Keller from the clothing store walking on the street with her small white dog. She spots me immediately as she passes my house. “Ryan!” she calls, waving frantically.
I’m so not in the mood for this.
“Hey, Mrs. Keller,” I say anyway, because my mother raised me right.
