The grass held the day's heat like a secret. Even with the sun dropping behind the pines, the ground gave it back through the soles of Riley's boots, warm and patient, as if the ridge had been saving this particular warmth just for them.

Jasmine stopped first. She always stopped first, but this time it wasn't to point at a bird or to declare she needed a snack or to spin in a circle with her arms out. She just stopped, mid-stride, and looked at the flat stretch of grass bordered by the low rock shelf and the pines. Then she kicked at the ground with the toe of her boot, scuffing a dark line in the dirt.

"This is where the net goes."

She said it like it was already decided. Like the net was just waiting in someone's garage, coiled and patient, knowing it would end up here.

Ella didn't answer with words. She stepped forward instead, one hand coming up to shade her eyes against the low angle of the sun, and she started walking the width of the clearing. Her strides were measured, deliberate, the same way she paced the baseline before a serve. Ten steps. Pause. Turn. She looked back at the rock shelf, then at the pines, then at the ground again, her lips moving silently as if she were counting.

"Too close to the trees on the east side," she said finally, her voice quiet but certain. "But if we angle it—" She turned, sighting down an imaginary line. "—we'd get the full length. No overhang."

“Guys, you know this is not where we’re living right?” Natalie and Riley both said synergistically.

“We know, we're just, building a blueprint of what is to come.”

And just like that, 3 more days pass by, the vacation is over. They all leave more excited than ever, knowing what is to come. Jessica says everyone needs to text Riley about the house and stuff.

Jasmine was already moving before anyone else, her boots finding the packed dirt of the path with the kind of certainty that came from having decided something without telling anyone. She tossed her duffel into the RV's open bay and turned, hands on her hips, surveying the clearing where they'd parked like she was sizing up a stage.

"Shotgun," she announced.

Natalie laughed from where she was loading the cooler. "There's literally one bench seat. We're all in shotgun."

"Fine. Then I call the window seat. The one that actually opens." Jasmine climbed in through the side door before anyone could argue, and Riley heard her voice muffled from inside. "Someone get the good snacks up front. I'm not sitting next to a bag of chips I can't reach."

The cabin door banged shut behind Ella, who came down the steps with her duffel strap crossed over her chest, her volleyball tucked under one arm like she wasn't sure she'd be allowed to leave it behind. She paused at the bottom, looking back at the cabin the way you look at a place you know you'll miss before you've even left it.

"You okay?" Riley asked.

Ella blinked, then nodded, her ponytail swinging. "Yeah. Just—" She looked at the clearing again, the flat stretch of grass where she'd paced off the net's width. "I want to remember it like this. Before it's a house."

Riley understood. The clearing was still just grass and packed dirt and the low rock shelf. It didn't know yet what it was going to become. There was something sacred in that, in the moment before a place learns its purpose.

Inde came down last, carrying the bag of trash from the cabin kitchen, and Riley watched her walk to the dumpster at the edge of the lot. She took her time, the way she did everything, and when she came back her hands were empty and her ponytail had come loose, dark hair falling around her face. She caught him watching and tilted her head, that small question she always asked without words.

He shook his head. Nothing. Just looking.

She smiled, just a little, and climbed into the RV.

Jessica was already inside, sprawled across the bench seat with her legs up, her head tilted back against the window. She'd claimed the spot before Jasmine could, and Jasmine was giving her a look that could have curdled milk.

"You're taking up the whole seat," Jasmine said.

"I'm tall. It's a tall person's condition." Jessica didn't open her eyes. "You can sit on my lap if you want."

"I would rather sit on the roof."

"The roof's not a seat."

"Neither is your lap, apparently, since you're using it for your feet."

Natalie slid into the driver's seat, adjusting the mirror with the calm efficiency of someone who had driven these roads before. "Everyone buckled?"

A chorus of grumbles answered her. Riley found the jump seat behind the passenger side, the one that folded down from the wall, and wedged himself into it. His knees pressed against the seat in front of him, and he hunched his shoulders the way he always did, trying to take up less space than he occupied.

Inde sat across from him, on the edge of the bench where Jessica's feet weren't, and their knees almost touched. The engine turned over, and the RV shuddered to life, and Riley felt the vibration through the floor and up his spine.

They pulled out of the lot, the cabin shrinking in the side mirror, the lake disappearing behind the trees. Jasmine had her phone out, already scrolling through the photos she'd taken, and she let out a sound that was half laugh, half groan.

"The group photo's blurry. You can't even see the lake."

"It's the moment that matters," Natalie said. "Not the pixels."

"Easy for you to say. You're in focus." Jasmine held the phone up, angling it toward the group. "Everyone smile. This is the after picture."

Riley looked up just as the shutter clicked, and he caught himself mid-blink, his mouth half-open, his shoulders still hunched. The photo would show him looking surprised, caught, not ready.

And then he realized he didn't mind.

For once, he didn't mind being caught.

"Send that to everyone," Jessica said, her voice lazy from the bench. "Especially the ones who couldn't come."

"There's nobody who couldn't come," Jasmine said. "We're all here. That's the point."

She said it lightly, but Riley heard the weight underneath, the same weight she'd carried on the ridge when she'd said she wanted to be part of the group's life. She wanted to be in the picture. She wanted to be in the room. She wanted to be somewhere she couldn't be left out of.

He understood that better than he could say.

The RV wound down the mountain road, and the conversation softened into the easy rhythm of people who had spent four days together and had run out of new things to say. Jasmine and Natalie talked about the house, about bedrooms and kitchens and whether they'd need a second bathroom. Ella contributed the occasional quiet observation, her voice barely carrying over the engine. Jessica fell asleep against the window, her breathing evening out, her hand loose on her stomach.

Inde was quiet, the way she always was, but her eyes were open, watching the trees pass. Riley watched her watch, and after a while she felt his gaze and turned to meet it.

She didn't smile. She just looked at him, steady and present, and that was enough.

The RV hit a pothole, and Jessica stirred, blinking. "Are we there yet?"

"Not even close," Natalie said. "Go back to sleep."

"I wasn't asleep." Jessica sat up, rubbing her eyes. "I was thinking."

"About what?"

"About the house. And about how we're going to tell people."

The conversation in the RV didn't stop exactly, but it changed. Jasmine's phone went down. Ella's gaze lifted from her lap. Even Natalie's hands tightened on the wheel, just slightly, the way they did when she was about to say something careful.

"Tell people what?" Jasmine asked.

Jessica looked at Riley, then at Inde, and something passed between the three of them, wordless and quick. They'd talked about this, in the quiet hours of the cabin, in the dark of the master bedroom. They'd agreed to tell their friends eventually. They hadn't agreed on when.

"That we're looking at houses," Jessica said, and the moment passed. "That we're serious about it."

"We are," Natalie said. "I've been thinking about it for weeks. I told you that."

"I know. I just—" Jessica ran a hand through her bob, tucking it behind her ear. "I want to make sure we're all on the same page. That nobody's going to back out."

Jasmine made a sound, something between a scoff and a laugh. "Back out? I've already picked my room. It's the one with the window that gets morning light."

"That's my room," Natalie said.

"It can be both our rooms. We'll share." Jasmine grinned. "I'll even let you have the top bunk."

"There's no bunks. We're adults. We get actual beds."

"Speak for yourself. I'm sleeping in a hammock."

The laughter came easy, and Riley felt something in his chest unclench. The house was still an idea, still a wish they were all holding together, but it was getting more solid. More real. It had a window with morning light. It had a room that could be shared. It had a net in the yard, waiting for its first game.

It was becoming a place.

The RV crested a hill, and the valley opened up below them, the highway ribboning through it, the city a smudge of gray on the horizon. Home was out there somewhere, the apartment with the new queen bed and the old mattress against the wall and the monstera by the window.

And also, maybe, a house with room for all of them.

Riley's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, expecting a text from one of the girls, but it was a number he didn't recognize. A local area code. He opened it.

*Hey, this is Marcus from the realty office. Got your message about the house on Maple Street. Still available if you want to take a look this week.*

Riley stared at the screen. He hadn't messaged any realty office. He hadn't even looked at houses online, not seriously, not beyond the daydreaming they'd all done on the ridge.

He looked up, and Jasmine was watching him, her phone still in her hand, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"What?" she said. "You said the house thing was real. I made it real."

"You contacted a realtor?"

"I contacted several. That one's the only one who wrote back." She shrugged, but her eyes were bright. "Maple Street. It's got a big yard. Flat. Good for a net."

Riley read the text again. Then he read it a third time, letting the words settle. A house on Maple Street. A real house, with a real yard, that a real person was willing to show them.

It wasn't a wish anymore. It was a possibility.

He handed the phone to Inde. She read it, her dark eyes moving over the words, and then she looked up at him, and then at Jasmine.

"You did this?"

"I did this." Jasmine's chin lifted. "Someone had to. You three were too busy being in love to make a phone call."

The words landed lightly, but Riley felt them. *You three.* She knew. She'd known since the cabin, since the breakfast confession, since the way Riley and Inde and Jessica moved around each other like planets in the same orbit. She hadn't said anything. She hadn't made it weird. She'd just… made a phone call.

"Jasmine," Jessica said, her voice careful, "you didn't have to—"

"I know I didn't have to. I wanted to." Jasmine looked at her, and for a moment the party-rock energy dropped away, and she was just a girl who didn't want to be left out. "I want to be part of this. All of it. The house, the net, the—" She gestured vaguely at the three of them. "—the whatever, the romance shenanigans, all of what you've got going on. I want to be in the picture."

The RV was quiet. Even the engine seemed to hold its breath.

"You are," Riley said.

It came out before he could think about it, and Jasmine's eyes went wide, just for a second, before she covered it with a grin.

"Damn right I am. I'm the one who found the house." She held up her phone, already typing. "I'm telling Marcus we'll come by Thursday. Three o'clock. Everybody clear your schedules."

Natalie laughed. "I have class until two."

"Perfect. You'll make it with time to spare."

Ella was quiet, her hands wrapped around her volleyball, and Riley saw her gaze go distant, the way it did when she was thinking about something she wasn't ready to say.

"Ella?"

She looked up. "The yard. You said it's flat?"

"That's what the listing says."

"Good." She nodded, once, and her shoulders came down from where they'd been creeping toward her ears. "That's good."

Riley looked at the phone again, at the message from a realtor he'd never contacted, about a house he'd never seen, on a street he'd never been to. And he felt something shift in his chest, the same thing he'd felt on the ridge when they'd all looked at the flat clearing and seen a net, a game, a future.

The wish was becoming a plan.

The plan was becoming real.

The RV rolled on toward home, and in the back seat, Jessica's hand found Riley's, her fingers threading through his. Across from him, Inde's knee pressed against his, a quiet anchor. And in the front, Jasmine was already texting the group chat, a string of emojis and exclamation points that Riley couldn't read but could feel.

He didn't count to ten. He didn't brace. He let himself stay in the moment, the way he'd promised himself on the ridge, and he let the road carry them forward, toward a house on Maple Street, toward a yard with a net, toward all of them, together.

His phone buzzed again. Jasmine had added him to a new group chat. The name was just a house emoji and a volleyball.

He smiled, and he didn't stop.

Riley turned to Jessica, and for a moment the RV's engine was the only sound. The words she'd just said—*Romance isn't off limits*—hung in the air like something fragile, something that needed to be handled carefully or it would shatter.

"Wait." He blinked. "What did you just say?"

Jessica's smile widened, cheek to cheek, the kind of smile she usually saved for callbacks and standing ovations. "I said romance isn't off limits.” Announcing it to the entire RV. “You know, between Riley. We can all share him.” She winked at him, Riley’s face was resembling him getting electrocuted, but eventually he shrugged.

“Yes, I know you all love me, but don’t take it to seriously, as she said, romance isn’t off limits. Me and Inde have done it. Me and Jess have done it. We don’t plan on stopping. But don’t feel embarrassed, preferably, get my attention, they won’t stop you.”

The RV went quiet in a way that felt less like silence and more like the whole vehicle holding its breath. Riley's ears were still ringing from his own words—*me and Inde have done it, me and Jess have done it*—and he could feel the heat climbing his neck, spreading up to his cheeks like a slow tide he couldn't stop.

Jasmine recovered first, because Jasmine always recovered first. She twisted in her seat, one knee coming up onto the bench so she could face him fully, and there was something sharp and bright in her eyes that Riley had never seen before. Not the party-rock energy, not the teasing grin she wore like armor. This was different. This was a question she'd been holding for a while.

"So," she said, drawing the word out like she was testing its weight. "I can kiss you and do all that stuff?"

Riley's throat went dry. He could feel Inde's knee against his, a warm pressure that grounded him, and Jessica's hand still threaded through his, her thumb tracing a slow circle on his palm. The two anchors held him steady while the rest of him wanted to fold into the jump seat and disappear.

"Not out of the blue," he said, and his voice came out steadier than he felt. "The goal is to not make anyone jealous, Jasmine."

She smiled at that, a slow, spreading thing that reminded him of a cat who'd found the cream. "So I just have to ask first? That's the rule?"

"There’s no rule, you do it, if it feels right."

"Okay." She said it simply, like she was filing it away for later, and turned back around in her seat. But Riley saw the way her shoulders settled, the way some tension he hadn't even noticed in her spine released. She'd asked. He'd answered. Something had been settled between them that neither of them had known needed settling.

From the bench seat, Ella's voice came quiet, barely carrying over the engine. "So, we can be in a relationship with you too?"

Riley blinked. Ella was looking at him with that full curiosity she usually reserved for volleyball plays and Professor Kim's lectures—head tilted, ice-blue eyes unblinking, like she was trying to understand the rules of a game she'd just discovered existed.

"I mean—" Riley started, and then stopped, because he didn't actually know how to finish that sentence.

He looked at Inde. She was watching him with that steady, patient gaze, her dark eyes giving nothing away but also not pulling him back. He looked at Jessica. She was smiling, that wide, cheek-to-cheek smile she'd worn when she'd announced romance wasn't off limits, and she gave his hand a small squeeze.

"Yes," he said, and the word felt bigger than he'd expected. "You can be in a relationship with me too. If that's what you want."

Ella nodded slowly, processing. Her fingers tightened around the volleyball in her lap, and she looked down at it, then back up at him. "Okay," she said. "I don’t really need to think about it."

Riley realized something. It was Ella out of her comfort shell—, she was willing to commit to something she hadn't fully examined from every angle. Riley found himself nodding back, respecting it more than he could say.

He turned to the front seat, where Natalie was driving with her usual calm focus, her braids swaying as she adjusted to the rhythm of the road. "And you, Natalie? Any questions?"

Natalie's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, meeting his gaze for just a second before returning to the road. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, the kind she wore when she'd already figured something out before anyone else had even noticed it was a puzzle.

"Nah," she said. "I completely understand lover boy."

The words landed like a warm hand on his shoulder, and Riley felt the blush rise to his cheeks again, hotter this time. *Lover boy.* It was such a Natalie thing to say—affectionate and teasing and utterly without judgment, all at once.

"I'm not—" he started, but he didn't get to finish, because Jasmine had twisted around in her seat again, her grin sharp and delighted.

"Oh, you absolutely are. You've got two girlfriends and a waiting list. That's the definition of lover boy."

"There's no waiting list."

"There's literally a waiting list. Ella just said she's not thinking about it. That's a easy yes."

"That's not—"

"And I asked first, so I'm at the front." Jasmine's grin widened. "Seniority matters."

Riley opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. There was no winning an argument with Jasmine when she'd already decided she was right, and honestly, he wasn't sure he wanted to win this one anyway.

Jessica laughed, the sound bright and easy. "She's got you there, babe." She kissed him on the forehead.

"I don't have a waiting list," Riley said again, but even he could hear the lack of conviction in his voice.

"Sure you don't," Jasmine said, and turned back around, clearly satisfied with her victory.

The RV settled into a new kind of quiet, not the awkward silence of earlier but something softer, more settled. The conversation had shifted something between all of them, though Riley couldn't quite name what. He looked down at his hands, at Jessica's fingers still threaded through his, and felt the warmth of Inde's knee against his own.

He'd said the words. He'd made the offer. And none of them had run away screaming.

Inde shifted beside him, her knee pressing a little harder against his, and when he looked up she was watching him with that quiet intensity she had, the one that made him feel seen in a way he'd never been before.

"You okay?" she asked, soft enough that only he could hear.

He nodded. "Yeah. I think I am."

She smiled, just a little, and turned back to the window, watching the trees pass.

The highway opened up ahead of them, the city growing closer on the horizon, and Riley felt something settle in his chest. The cabin was behind them. The clearing was behind them. But the net they'd imagined, the house they'd started to build in their minds—that was still ahead.

And now, apparently, so was something else. Something he hadn't let himself imagine, because he'd been too busy bracing for the fall.

His phone buzzed again. Jasmine had added Ella and Natalie to the group chat with the house emoji and the volleyball. A new message appeared, a string of emojis and a single line of text:

*Thursday. 3pm. Maple Street. Don't be late.*

Riley smiled, and this time he didn't try to stop it.

The RV rolled on, carrying them all toward home, toward a house that was becoming real, toward a future that was taking shape faster than he could keep up with. And for once, he didn't want to slow it down.

He wanted to see where it went.

The city grew closer, the highway ribboning through the valley, and Riley let himself stay in the moment, the way he'd promised on the ridge. He didn't count to ten. He didn't brace. He just held Jessica's hand and felt Inde's knee against his own and let the road carry them forward.

The sun was setting by the time they pulled into the apartment complex parking lot. The RV shuddered to a stop, and for a moment nobody moved, as if they were all reluctant to break the spell of the past four days.

Then Jasmine was up and out the door, her duffel slung over her shoulder, her voice carrying back to them. "Group text when you're home. I want to see everyone's faces when they remember we're going to look at an actual house."

Natalie laughed, climbing out after her. "It's a house, not a puppy."

"Same energy."

Ella slid out quietly, her volleyball tucked under her arm, and paused at the door, looking back at Riley. "Thursday," she said. It wasn't a question.

"Thursday," he confirmed.

She nodded, once, and followed the others.

Riley stood, his legs stiff from the ride, and grabbed his duffel from the storage compartment. Jessica was already out, stretching her long arms above her head, and Inde was waiting by the door of the apartment building, keys in hand.

They walked up together, the three of them, and Riley felt the familiar warmth of it, the rightness of it, the way their bodies moved in sync without even trying.

The apartment was exactly as they'd left it—boxes still stacked against the wall, the monstera by the window, the old mattress leaning against the living room wall like a ghost of a night that had already passed. The new queen bed was waiting in the bedroom, made and ready, and Riley felt a pull toward it, toward the quiet that waited there.

"I'm going to shower," Jessica said, already heading down the hall. "I feel like I've been marinating in road dust for four hours."

Inde nodded, dropping her bag by the couch. "I'll start on dinner."

Riley stood in the middle of the living room, watching them move around him, and felt something settle in his chest. This was home. Not the apartment, not the house on Maple Street they were going to see on Thursday—this. The three of them, moving around each other like planets in the same orbit.

His phone buzzed again. He pulled it out, expecting another message from Jasmine, but it was a different notification. A calendar invite, from Jasmine, for Thursday at 3 PM.

Location: 1420 Maple Street.

He stared at the address for a long moment. A real address, for a real house, that they were really going to look at in three days.

He pocketed the phone and followed the sound of Inde's footsteps, they looked face to face, Inde winked at him. He knew what that meant. He yelled.

“Hey Jess! You got room for one more?”

“Of course.”

Riley turned to Inde before going to the shower, she smiled and nodded.

The bathroom was already steaming by the time Riley pushed the door open, the air thick with the scent of Jessica's shampoo—something floral and expensive that she'd brought from the city. She was under the spray, her back to him, and the water ran down the long line of her spine, dark hair plastered to her shoulders.

She didn't turn around, but he saw her head tilt, that small awareness of his presence that she always had. "Took you long enough."

"Inde wanted to make sure the chicken was seasoned before she started it." Riley pulled his shirt over his head, the fabric catching on his shoulders for a second before it gave. "She's got opinions about garlic."

"She's got opinions about everything. It's one of the things I love about her." Jessica's voice was warm, easy, and then she did turn, water streaming down her face, and her eyes found him in the mirror's reflection. "You coming in or are you just going to stand there being shy?"

He wasn't shy. Not with her. Not anymore. He unbuttoned his jeans and stepped out of them, and the air hit his skin, cool after the warmth of the RV and the walk up the stairs. The bathroom was small—Riley's apartment had been built for one person, maybe two, definitely not for a six-foot-five swimmer and a six-foot-five actress who both took up more space than they were given.

Jessica laughed as he stepped under the spray, the water hot enough to sting, and her hands came up to his chest, palms flat against his skin.

"You're still warm from the ride," she said, her voice dropping. "I like that."

"I like you."

"Smooth." She leaned up, and he met her halfway, his mouth finding hers. The water ran between them, and he tasted soap and heat and the particular sweetness of her that he'd learned over the past weeks—the way she kissed when she was tired, the way she kissed when she was happy, the way she kissed when she wanted something.

This was the last one.

Her hands slid up from his chest to his shoulders, then into his hair, pulling him closer. The water drummed against his back, and he pressed her against the tile, one hand finding the dip of her waist, the other braced against the wall beside her head. She made a sound against his mouth, low and satisfied, and her leg came up, hooking around his hip.

"We should do this more often," she murmured against his lips.

"We should do this every day."

"Inde might get jealous."

"Inde's in the kitchen seasoning chicken." He kissed the corner of her mouth. "She knows what she's doing."

Jessica laughed, and the sound vibrated through him, and then she pulled him closer, her nails dragging lightly down his back, and Riley stopped thinking about the kitchen, about the house, about anything except the way her body fit against his.

The water sluiced over them, and he lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist, her back against the tile. She was warm and slick and she pulled him in with her heels, and when he pushed inside her, she gasped against his neck, her breath hot and uneven.

"God," she breathed. "I missed this."

"We were gone for four days."

"Four days is a lifetime." Her hips rolled against his, and he groaned, his forehead dropping to her shoulder. "Don't you know anything about absence making the heart grow fonder?"

"I know about—" He lost the sentence as she moved again, a slow, grinding motion that made his knees weak. "I know about you."

"That's the right answer."

The shower was too small for them, the way everything in his apartment was too small for them, but they made it work the way they always did, bodies finding the angles that fit. The water ran cold for a moment when the tank struggled, and Jessica laughed, her head falling back against the tile, and then the hot returned and she pulled him deeper, her legs tightening around him.

He moved inside her, slow and deliberate, the way she liked when they had time, and she let him, her eyes half-closed, her mouth open, the water streaming over her collarbones. Her hand found the back of his neck, and she held him there, close, her forehead against his.

"I love you," she said, and the words were simple, the way they always were with her now, no performance, no rehearsal. Just truth.

He kissed her, and she kissed him back, and the water ran over them both, and Riley let himself feel it, the warmth, the weight, the way she held him like she had no intention of letting go.

She came with a sound that was almost a laugh, her body tightening around him, her nails pressing into his shoulders, and he followed her, his face buried in her neck, her name on his lips.

They stayed like that for a long moment, the water running over them, her legs still wrapped around him, his forehead against her shoulder. Then she let out a long breath and loosened her grip, sliding down his body until her feet found the floor.

"That," she said, "was exactly what I needed."

"Four days is a lifetime," he echoed, and she laughed, swatting his chest.

"Don't use my words against me."

"I'm learning from the best."

She turned off the water, and they stood in the sudden quiet, dripping, the steam beginning to clear. Riley reached past her for the towel on the hook, and she took it from him, wrapping it around herself with the practiced ease of someone who had done this a hundred times.

He grabbed a second towel and dried off, and they moved around each other in the small bathroom with the choreography of people who had learned each other's space. She brushed her teeth while he combed his hair with his fingers, and she caught his eye in the mirror and smiled, toothpaste foaming at the corner of her mouth.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing." She rinsed and spat. "Just—I like this. The ordinary stuff. The shower and the towels and the—" She gestured vaguely. "The domesticity of it all."

"Me too."

He pulled on a clean shirt, and she found a pair of his sweatpants, rolling the waistband until they stayed up. They padded out of the bathroom together, barefoot, damp-haired, and the smell hit them both at once—garlic and onions and something rich and savory that made Riley's stomach growl.

Inde was at the stove, her back to them, a wooden spoon in her hand. She'd changed into a loose tank top and shorts, her hair still up in the ponytail she'd worn on the drive, and she was stirring something in the big cast-iron pan that Jessica had brought from her old apartment.

"Dinner's almost ready," she said without turning around. "There's rice in the steamer, and I made that salad you like, Jess, with the—"

She turned, finally, and her eyes swept over them, taking in their damp hair, their bare feet, the way Jessica was wearing Riley's sweatpants and Riley was wearing a shirt that had been wrinkled in his duffel for four days. Her eyebrows rose, just slightly.

"Shower was good?"

"Refreshing," Jessica said, her voice too innocent.

"Mmm." Inde turned back to the stove, but Riley caught the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "The chicken's done. There's a bottle of wine on the counter. Someone should open it."

Riley crossed to the counter and picked up the bottle, a cheap red that had been in the apartment since before the move. He worked the corkscrew in while Jessica set the table, and Inde plated the chicken, and for a few minutes they moved around each other in the small kitchen with the same ease they'd had in the bathroom, a quiet domestic rhythm that felt more natural than anything Riley had ever known.

They sat down to eat, the three of them squeezed around the tiny table that was really only meant for two, their elbows touching, their knees brushing under the table. Inde had made a sauce for the chicken, something with tomatoes and herbs, and Jessica made a sound of approval on her first bite that was almost indecent.

"This is incredible," Jessica said, her mouth still half-full. "When did you learn to cook like this?"

"My mom." Inde's voice was quiet, but steady. "She taught me a few things before—" She didn't finish the sentence, and Riley didn't make her. "I've been practicing."

"Well, practice more. This is the best thing I've eaten all week."

"You ate pancakes at the cabin this morning."

"And this is still better."

Inde smiled, a small, genuine thing, and Riley watched the two of them, the way they traded barbs and compliments with equal ease, the way they'd found a rhythm of their own that didn't need him to hold it together. He'd been so worried, those first days, that he'd be the bridge, the thing that connected them, and that without him they'd have nothing in common. But they'd built their own thing, their own quiet understanding, and he was just part of it, not the whole.

They ate, and they talked about the house, about the rooms they'd each claimed, about whether they'd need a second bathroom or a bigger kitchen. Jessica made a case for a walk-in closet, and Inde pointed out that they'd need a guest room for when the others came to visit, and Riley listened and smiled and felt the warmth of the wine and the food and the two women beside him settle into his bones.

When the plates were mostly clean, Inde leaned back in her chair, her glass of wine in her hand, and looked at them with that quiet intensity she had, the one that made Riley feel like he was being read.

"So," she said, and there was something in her voice, a lightness that didn't quite match her expression. "I have a question."

Riley looked up. "What?"

Inde took a sip of her wine, slow, deliberate, drawing it out. Then she set the glass down and folded her hands on the table.

"How big was it?"

Riley blinked. "How big was what?"

"The shower." Inde's face was perfectly neutral, but her eyes were bright, dancing. "I've never been in it. I was just wondering. You two were in there for, what, twenty minutes? I wanted to make sure it was big enough for the three of us, in case we ever—" She gestured vaguely. "—wanted to try it."

Riley felt the heat rise to his face before he could stop it, a slow tide that started at his collar and climbed to his ears. He opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out.

Jessica, beside him, had gone very still, her fork hovering halfway to her mouth. Her cheeks were flushed, a deep red that spread from her cheekbones down her neck, and she was staring at Inde with an expression that was half mortification, half disbelief.

Inde looked between them, and then she laughed, a real laugh, the kind that came from her chest and made her eyes crinkle at the corners.

"I'm kidding," she said. "I just wanted to see you two blush."

Riley let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "That's—that's not—"

"It's very fair," Jessica said, her voice a little high. "We've been making you blush all week. Turnabout's fair play."

"Exactly." Inde picked up her glass again, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "I've been taking notes. I'm learning."

Riley shook his head, but he couldn't stop the smile that tugged at his mouth. "You're dangerous."

"I'm observant. There's a difference."

Jessica recovered enough to take a sip of her wine, and then she set the glass down with a little more force than necessary. "Okay, but I have a question now."

Inde raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead."

"The shower. It's genuinely small. Like, I had to angle myself sideways to wash my hair. If we're going to—" She glanced at Riley, then back at Inde. "—try things, we might need to get creative."

Inde considered this, her head tilting in that way she had when she was thinking. "We could get one of those shower heads that detaches. The kind with the hose."

"That's practical," Jessica said, and there was a note in her voice that Riley couldn't quite place. "I like practical."

Riley cleared his throat, his face still warm. "Can we maybe not plan the shower logistics tonight?"

"Why not?" Inde asked, her tone innocent. "We're planning the house. The shower is part of the house."

"That's—technically true."

"Technically true is the best kind of true." Jessica grinned, and Riley felt the blush climb his face again, hotter this time.

Inde laughed, soft and warm, and reached across the table to squeeze his hand. "I'm teasing you. This is what we do now, right? We tease each other. We plan houses. We—" She glanced at Jessica, then back at him. "—we figure it out as we go."

Riley looked at her hand on his, then at Jessica, who was watching them both with that soft, open expression she wore when she wasn't performing. And he felt something settle in his chest, a warmth that had nothing to do with the wine.

"Yeah," he said. "I think that's what we do."

They cleared the plates together, the three of them moving around each other in the small kitchen, and Riley caught Inde's eye over the sink, and she winked at him, quick and private, and he felt the smile spread across his face before he could stop it.

Inde had finished the dishes by the time he and Jessica had gotten dressed, steam still curling from the bathroom door. She was at the stove, stirring something in the cast-iron pan that smelled like garlic and herbs, and she didn't turn around when they came in, just tilted her head back and said, "Dinner's ready. Sit."

They sat. She served. The chicken was perfect—golden skin, juicy inside, the sauce reduced to something glossy and dark. Riley took a bite and made a sound that was almost embarrassing, and Jessica, across from him, was doing the same thing, her eyes closed, a low hum of appreciation in her throat.

"Inde," Jessica said, her voice reverent, "this is actually incredible. Like, restaurant-level incredible."

"It's just chicken." But Inde's cheeks were pink, and she was looking at her plate with the pleased, shy expression of someone who didn't get praised often enough.

They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the scrape of forks and the occasional hum of appreciation. The wine was open on the counter, and Riley poured another glass for everyone, and the apartment settled into the easy quiet of a shared meal at the end of a long day.

When the plates were mostly empty, Inde set down her fork and looked at them, a question in her eyes that she seemed to be weighing. Then she said, "So. You two were in there a while. I was starting to think you'd drowned."

"We were thorough," Jessica said, her voice light, but her ears were turning pink.

"Thorough." Inde repeated the word like she was tasting it. She picked up her wine, swirled it, and then set it down again, her gaze moving from Jessica to Riley and back. "Okay. I have to ask. How big was it? I've seen it, but—" She gestured at Jessica. "—you. What do you think?"

Riley's fork clattered against the plate. Jessica choked on her wine.

For a long moment, nobody moved. Then Riley heard himself make a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and Jessica was coughing, her hand over her mouth, her face going from pink to a deep, unmistakable red.

"Inde," Riley said, his voice cracking.

"What?" She was the picture of innocence, but her dark eyes were dancing. "I'm asking a legitimate question. You've both—" She made a vague gesture. "—experienced it. I'm just trying to get a second opinion."

Jessica wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, still coughing. "I—you know what, I think I need more water."

"You don't need more water," Inde said, her voice warm and teasing. "You need to answer the question."

Riley stared at his plate, willing it to swallow him whole. His face was on fire, he could feel it, the heat radiating off his cheeks like a stove burner. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again.

"It's—" he started, and then stopped, because he had no idea how to finish that sentence.

Jessica, beside him, had gone very still, her glass of water halfway to her lips. Her face was the same shade of red as the wine, and she was looking at Inde with an expression that was half disbelief, half something Riley couldn't name.

"I'm not answering that," Jessica said finally, her voice a little high.

"Why not?" Inde asked, her tone perfectly reasonable. "I shared with you. Last week, when you asked about—"

"That was different!"

"How?"

"Because—" Jessica sputtered. "Because it just is!"

Inde laughed, a real laugh, the kind that came from her chest and made her eyes crinkle at the corners. "Okay, okay. I'm just trying to figure out if we need to invest in a bigger shower head or if the current one's going to cut it."

Riley buried his face in his hands. "I think I need to go lie down."

"You don't need to lie down," Inde said, reaching across the table to squeeze his wrist. "You need to finish your dinner. You've got a big day Thursday."

The mention of Thursday—the house, the realtor, the possibility—grounded him, pulled him back from the edge of mortification. He looked up, and Inde was watching him with that steady, warm gaze, a small smile on her face, and he felt the heat in his cheeks begin to fade, just a little.

"Fine," he said, picking up his fork. "But I'm not answering any more questions tonight."

"Deal," Inde said, and she let go of his wrist, but her fingers lingered for a moment, a warm pressure that said more than words.

Jessica let out a long breath, her shoulders dropping. "I need a bigger wine glass."

"There's a box of them in the hallway," Inde said. "From the move."

"Perfect." Jessica pushed back from the table, still red, but smiling now, shaking her head as she went to find the box.

Riley watched her go, and then he looked at Inde, who was watching him with that quiet intensity she had, the one that made him feel seen.

"You enjoyed that," he said.

"I did." She didn't try to deny it. "You're very easy to fluster. It's cute."

"I'm not—" He stopped. "Okay, I am. A little."

"A lot." She reached across the table and took his hand, her callused fingers threading through his. "But I like it. I like that you still get shy. It means you still care."

He looked at her hand on his, then up at her face, and the words stuck in his throat. She smiled, small and private, and squeezed his hand, and then she let go and picked up her fork.

"Eat your dinner," she said. "Thursday's coming."

He ate his dinner. And when Jessica came back with three proper wine glasses, the laughter started again, and the apartment filled with the easy warmth of the three of them, together, home.