I’ve been hanging out every day with Chris for the past week. So, when I realized there was still an hour left before Chris’s shift ended, I figured I’d drop by the coffee shop. But I didn’t want to look like some desperate stalker showing up alone, so I dragged Tracy with me. Not that I needed her approval or anything. But she had this uncanny ability to sniff out red flags like a bloodhound. It was practically a superpower. If Chris was secretly a serial killer or just kind of a dick, she'd pick up on it. Plus, I wanted her to get to know him.

The place was winding down by the time we got there—just three tables still occupied, the late-day light spilling gold across the wooden floors. I spotted Chris behind the counter, focused on wiping it down with practiced precision. He looked relaxed. Comfortable.

Maybe this was a bad idea. Or maybe it was the best one I’d had all week. Honestly, it was hard to tell the difference these days.

“Hey, Chris!” I called out, giving him a wave. “Thought we’d swing by and say hi.”

He looked up and smiled. The kind of soft smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes but still short-circuited my brain.

“This is Tracy,” I added. “My sister.”

“Hi!” Chris said, friendly and open.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Tracy replied, already leaning in just a little too confidently. “Sorry to hear what happened with Benson. And thanks for helping my brother. That was really kind of you.”

“I’m the one who should thank Troy,” Chris said. “He saved my skin.”

I rolled my eyes. “I already told you, dude. No need to keep saying that.”

But hopefully, nobody’s ever going to read this because I actually like it when he says it. It reminds me of something I’ve done right.

Tracy gave me a sideways glance and then turned her attention back to him. “I also wanted to apologize.”

“For what?” Chris asked, eyebrows rising slightly.

“Yeah,” I echoed, suspicious. “For what?”

“For you having to put up with him,” she said, her voice dipping into mock concern.

Great.

She leaned onto the counter, getting closer to Chris like they were already conspirators. “He’s not that bright, you know?”

Here we go...

I started regretting bringing her almost instantly. Should’ve known better.

“Oh, shut up,” I muttered.

“It’s true. He fell out of the crib when he was two,” she said matter-of-factly. “Headfirst.”

“Yeah? Because you pushed me!” I shot back, jabbing a finger in her direction. “In case you haven’t figured it out, she’s the evil twin.”

“Bitch please,” Tracy said, flipping her long, dark hair off her shoulder like she was above it all.

“Oh,” Chris said, his face brightening like a light switch had just flipped on. “So you’re twins. That makes a lot of sense. Who’s older?”

“Troy is,” she answered, too quickly.

She always likes to say I was the failed test run, so she could come out properly.

“I was kind of expecting more of a fight,” Chris admitted. “Isn’t that usually a touchy subject?”

“He’s the grumpy old man, clearly,” Tracy replied, grinning.

I narrowed my eyes. “Wait. Were you pitting us against each other?”

Chris raised his hands innocently. “No! Well... I can’t deny this is the most fun I’ve had all day. Want a coffee?”

“Tracy, you should try it,” I said. “He makes really good coffee.”

“I know,” she said. “I’ve been here before, remember? I’ll take a cappuccino, please.”

Chris nodded. “Sure! You?”

“Nah,” I said. “I’d be too wired. Next time I’ll come earlier.”

As he turned to prep the drink, Tracy leaned on the counter again. “So, how are you liking it here? Troy told me you moved a couple of months ago.”

“I really like it,” Chris said, glancing over his shoulder. “It’s nice and quiet. Nothing like the big city I was used to. People are... nicer, you know?”

When he said it, he looked right at me.

Or maybe I imagined it. I wanted to ask him what he meant by that look—if it meant anything—but the words never came. I was probably reading too much into it, anyway.

We stayed until closing. The last customers filtered out, the lights dimmed, and eventually, we offered to give Chris a ride home.

***

Back home, Tracy followed me to my room.

“You know, you always complained that Gran embarrasses you in front of people... but tonight? You did the same. If you’re not careful, you’ll turn into her before you know it.”

“Rude,” she said, though she didn’t sound all that offended. “I was just trying to make him comfortable. Anyway, he’s nice. I like him. And I get why you’re all gushing.

“I’m not gushing,” I protested. “I just enjoy his company.”

I reached for my cigarette pack and cracked the window. The lighter clicked, the flame flaring to life, and the first drag stung more than usual. Maybe because of what she said. Or maybe because she was right.

“Do you really have to do that right now?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Don’t nag me,” I said, exhaling smoke into the cold night air.

“I just hate that you’re doing this to yourself...”

“I know. I’m sorry, Tracy. I promise I’ll stop.”

It isn’t a complete lie. I want to stop. I just don’t think it would happen anytime soon. But the way she said it—quietly, like she cared—made my chest ache. I hate being this big disappointment she always had to worry about.

“You always say that,” she said. “If Mom and Dad catch you, you're screwed.”

“They’re not stupid. They know.”

And they did. I’m pretty sure they’d already given up on me.

Can’t blame them. I’d kind of given up on myself, too.

After a few minutes of silence, Tracy said, “You know, I’m kind of surprised you like him. He doesn’t seem like your type.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, amused. “What is my type, then?”

“Trash.”

I snorted. “Wow. Thanks.”

“But he seems pretty decent,” she added.

“That’s kind of the point. It’s why I like hanging out with him,” I admitted.

She nodded. “And you should. He might be a good influence on you, for a change.”

“Well... guess we’ll find out.”

She didn’t say anything after that. And for once, neither did I.

I just stared out the window, the ember of my cigarette flickering against the dark.