“You should come,” she said suddenly, like she’d surprised herself. “To Mystery Night. I mean. If you?—”
“I’m coming. I’ll be there.”
Her words stalled. “You will?”
“Yeah.”
She searched my face like she was deciding if I was serious, and I let her look, because I had nothing to hide in that particular moment, and she was welcome to all of it. “You don’t have to,” she said. “It’s very on-brand for me. Not necessarily for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You don’t exactly scream cozy group activity.”
“Maybe I’ll surprise you.” A smile pulled at my mouth, and I watched her try not to return it and fail slightly.
“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to come just because I asked.”
“I don’t,” I said. “I wouldn’t say yes if I didn’t mean it.”
She went still for a second, fingers resting against the edge of the bar. I could see her deciding whether to believe me, and I wanted very badly to close whatever distance was making her uncertain. I didn’t.
“I mean it,” I added, quieter. “I want to be there.”
Something moved in her expression—soft and unguarded, there and gone before she could pull it back. I caught it anyway. I was paying so much attention to her that it was hard to miss anything, which was its own problem, one I’d mostly stopped trying to solve.
The tension eased. She nodded. “Okay.”
Paige stepped in just long enough to grab Cara’s empty glass, her gaze flicking between us with a look that said she’d already formed an opinion and was enjoying it. Cara didn’t react, which probably meant she’d noticed and was choosing not to engage.
“So…” she said after a moment. “Are you staying? In town, I mean.”
“Yeah.”
“For how long?”
I glanced at her, then down at the wood grain beneath my hand. “I’m not sure yet.” It wasn’t entirely true anymore, but saying the real answer out loud still sat sideways in my chest, and this wasn’t the moment for it.
She nodded like that made sense, even if it didn’t answer anything. “You haven’t been back that long. And we haven’t really talked…”
It would’ve been easy to leave it there. Keep things light. Keep the distance where it belongs. The responsible version of me knew that.
“I should probably—” she started. “Um, it’s getting late and?—”
“Yeah,” I said, even though I didn’t want her to finish that sentence. Even though I would have sat there another hourwithout difficulty, just listening to her talk about clue envelopes and things she’d rewritten twice.
She slid off the stool, hand brushing the edge of the bar as she steadied herself. For a second, she just stood there, like she wasn’t sure which version of leaving she was supposed to choose.
“Friday,” she said. “Mystery Night.”
“I’ll see you then.”
Her fingers caught in the sleeve of her cardigan, tugging it back up onto her shoulder, and I watched that small automatic gesture and said nothing about it. “If you hate it, you can leave early. I won’t take it personally.”
“I won’t hate it.”
“You don’t know that. There’s a whole group activity component. And puzzles. And?—”
“Cara.”
