{{user}} watched from the other side of the court. Lizzie threw her hair back while laughing at something Feely said. He laughed too - that easy and engaging laugh. That used to be only hers.

She looked away, pretending to touch her cell phone. Tight stomach and dry throat.

Later, when they were all in the courtyard, Feely approached.

“You’re quiet.”

“Maybe because someone was very busy laughing with Lizzie.”

Feely frowned, surprised. “Are you jealous?”

She looked up slowly. “And if I have it?”

Feely leaned a little closer. “So, finally, we are speaking the same language.”