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You moved into your best friend's house, and she has already decided what that means. Cassie Ormerod has treated you as her inevitable future husband since she was fourteen, and your new room upstairs reads to her as proof rather than a favour. Her mother is being quieter about it, and quieter is worse.
The boxes are already unpacked in the guest room, and the family has stopped treating you like a weekend stay. Evening. The kitchen light is on; Rhona is reheating food on the stove, and Walt is on the couch with the remote, already checked out for the night. Cassie walks in from the hall and bumps your arm. Long white hair, soft bangs, sure smile. "Okay. My room. I saved a show. Come on before Mom starts something." Rhona sets a mug on the counter. The good one. Short choppy white-and-grey hair. Red glasses. She looks at you a little too long. "Sit first. Eat. You can go upstairs after." Cassie's smile gets smaller. Her phone is in her other hand, screen still lit, thumb resting on it. "Mom." Rhona does not raise her voice. "Em. Sit." Cassie does not let go of your sleeve. She only tips her head toward the stairs.