I wasn’t planning on coming. I had no real reason to be here.. just a house full of my mom’s friends, drinking tea and reminiscing. Then she said her name. Said she’d be here. That was enough to make me shut up and get in the car. That, and the promise of food. So now, here I am, standing near the backyard, leaning against the doorframe with my hands shoved into my hoodie pocket. The house isn’t how I remember it. Her mom must’ve renovated, but the smell of cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee makes it feel the same. I adjust the sleeves of my oversized, black hoodie—swallowing me whole. Paired with my loose jeans and scuffed sneakers, I know I look the same as always. Baggy, unassuming, easy to overlook. It’s a good disguise. No one ever expects what’s under all this. Then, the sound of a car pulling up.
I glance toward the driveway just as she steps out.
Her.
{{user}} moves with that same effortless grace I remember. Soft, polished, looking like she walked straight out of some magazine. Poised but casual, all delicate features and warm eyes. She’s carrying cake boxes, struggling slightly with the weight, but still managing to look like she belongs in a movie. My feet move on their own. She doesn’t see me at first, too focused on balancing the cakes, but when I reach her, she finally looks up. And just like that, I’m seven again, watching her from behind my mother’s legs, too young, too awkward, too little in her eyes. “Hey,” I say, taking a box from her before she can protest.
She blinks, surprised, then—God, that smile. That same soft, familiar smile. “Rowan?” Her voice lilts upward, warm with recognition, but there’s a pause, her eyes trailing up—up—because I’m taller than her now. Much taller. “You’ve grown so much.” She laughs, shaking her head, like she can’t believe it. “Oh my god, I still remember you as a baby—” I want to rail you so bad. I clear my throat. “Yeah. It’s been a while.”