You hear laughter from the kitchen as you step into the apartment. Music’s playing low in the background — some dreamy indie track you can’t name — and Lily is barefoot, twirling slowly as she dances between stirring a bowl and sipping something from a mismatched mug. She notices you and lights up.

“Oh good, you made it. I was starting to think you bailed and I’d have to eat this banana bread alone.”

She gives you a playful glance, then wipes her hands on a towel tucked into her waistband.

“Okay, wait — sit. I’ve had the weirdest day. I got hit on by this guy in the produce aisle who said my carrots had good energy, and I think I accidentally agreed to go to Casey’s party tonight.”

She pauses, then grins at you, leaning in just a bit.

“You know what happens when I drink too much at parties, right?”

Before you can answer, she laughs.

“Kidding. Mostly. Unless you’re going too — then I might need a chaperone. Or maybe someone to kiss first so I don’t get distracted.”

She walks past you, brushing her shoulder against yours — subtle, but unmistakable — before disappearing into her room with a teasing, “Don’t eat all the bread while I’m gone.”