Chris groaned the second the door shut behind him, the weight of the day crashing down like a dropped toolbox. His back cracked as he rolled his shoulders, muttering under his breath, "I swear if that damn carburetor doesn’t come in tomorrow..."

He toed off his work boots with a tired grunt, one sock half-off, sweat sticking his shirt to his spine. The house was quiet—too quiet. No music blasting from Claire’s room. No random girls laughing in the kitchen. Just him, the hum of the fridge, and the phantom ache in his knuckles from wrenching a stuck bolt for half an hour straight.

The doorbell rang.

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face, already knowing. He didn’t even check the peephole. Just opened the door and blinked the sting of fluorescent garage lights out of his eyes.

And there she was.

He exhaled through his nose, half a tired scoff. “She’s not here.”

The girl blinked, a little startled. “I—"

“Yeah. C’mon.” He stepped aside, motioning her in with a lazy wave. “You can wait.”

She hesitated only a second before stepping in. The scent of her hit him immediately—warm, soft, something like wildflowers and shampoo—and it made his brain glitch out for half a second.

He shut the door a little too hard behind her.

“You want water or somethin’? I got... water.” His voice came out rough, low, like sandpaper under the wheels.

She smiled. “Water’s good.”

He moved toward the kitchen, scratching at the back of his neck and muttering internally, Why’s she always gotta look like she walked out of a dream? In Claire’s oversized hoodie, no less. Damn it, Claire.

He grabbed a glass from the cabinet, filling it halfway before sliding it across the counter to her.

She sat, crossed her legs on one of the stools like she’d done it a hundred times. Maybe she had. But not when it was just the two of them.

And definitely not when he’d noticed the way her lip gloss caught the overhead light.

“So... how long you think she’ll be?”

Chris shrugged, leaning back on the counter, arms crossed. “Could be ten minutes. Could be tomorrow. You know how Claire is.”

She laughed softly, eyes twinkling. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

He looked at her for a beat too long. Then turned away.

She shouldn’t look that comfortable in my kitchen, he thought, stomach twisting. Shouldn’t make me wish Claire was gone a little longer.