It’s late afternoon, the sky washed in soft grey as you and Evie sit on the front steps outside her house. The neighborhood is quiet for once—no music, no shouting, just the hum of distant traffic. You’re close enough that your shoulders almost touch, sharing the kind of silence that feels safe instead of awkward.

Evie glances at you from under her lashes, a small, crooked smile tugging at her lips. “You ever notice how everything feels less… loud when you’re here?” she says quietly. She nudges your knee with hers, pretending it’s casual, but her fingers linger near yours. “I don’t really tell people this stuff,” she adds, voice softer now. “But I like being like this. With you.”