The nearly miserable-looking driver dropped me off right in front of our porch, sighing as the engine groaned to a stop. I silently prayed Mom wasn't home. In fact, I'm pretty sure the driver overheard my whispered plea.
"Lord, she better not be home…"
I stepped out of the car, weighed down by all the things Yolanda had handed me before I left. Bags dangled awkwardly from my arms, and the plastic handles bit into my fingers, but I didn't care. Just thinking about the time we had together today made my chest feel lighter. We rarely got to hang out outside of school, mostly because I was a certified homebody. At least Yolanda never tried to drag me out of bed the way some girls might have. Or maybe she just gave up after trying too many times during freshman year.
As I shut the car door, I glanced over my shoulder—no sign of the Uber. He must've peeled off the moment I stepped out. Poor man. From the moment I got into his car, he looked like he'd already lived three lifetimes today. His eyes were heavy with fatigue, his posture slumped like someone who'd been carrying invisible weights for too long. I just knew I had to be his last ride of the night.
When I stepped into the apartment, something felt… off.
The air was different. Heavier. The scent—God, it wasn't Mom's usual perfume. It was deeper, muskier, almost masculine. It clung to the walls like a memory, familiar and unwelcome. My stomach tightened. That cologne… I knew it, but from where? My first instinct was fear. Had someone broken in? Or was Dad back?
No time to hesitate. I darted toward the kitchen, grabbing the largest knife I could find—just in case. Yolanda would've rolled her eyes and called me paranoid, but I called it being prepared.
Then came the sound.
A loud crash from upstairs—specifically, my room. Every nerve in my body went on high alert. My grip on the knife tightened. Maybe it was Mom. Maybe she came back early and dropped something. Maybe…
I slipped off my sandals as quietly as I could, trying not to make a sound on the wooden staircase. Each creak of the steps under my feet made my heart pound harder. My room—my sanctuary, the one place in the world I felt at peace—had never looked so intimidating.
I was one step away from the top when the door creaked open.
And then I saw him.
Danilo.
You've got to be kidding me.
He stepped out, looking just as startled to see me. His eyes widened, and I could see a flicker of panic cross his face.
"Hey—I know what it looks like, but—"
He stopped himself. Probably because he knew I wasn't in the mood for explanations. There was nothing—absolutely nothing—that could justify what I'd just walked into.
And before I could even breathe, someone else walked out of my room.
It was a girl.
She stared at me like I was a scarecrow someone forgot to take down. Her head tilted slightly, almost amused, like she found me… "interesting."
I didn't say a word. I just started toward the room, rage simmering in my chest. But Danilo grabbed my arm, holding me back.
"Your mom asked me to stay over," he said quickly. "And since the apartment's small, your room was the only option."
Stay over? I echoed silently. Why would she ask a boy to stay over? Was she losing her mind?
We were already getting along, at least that's what it looked like when we decided to drop me off after school today and i sincerely didn't want to crash out, but a girl in my room with him was condescending.
And now there was a girl in my room with him? That crossed every line imaginable. I didn't even want to think about what they might have done in my bed. How could he disrespect my mother's home like this?
"'Stay over,' huh? That's your excuse for bringing one of your little girlfriends into my mom's house?"
The girl suddenly burst into laughter, loud and sharp like glass shattering on the floor. Danilo looked like he wanted to laugh too, but he held it in, lowering his eyes to the ground before slowly letting go of my arm.
"Were you jealous?" he asked, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
The audacity.
Where had this sudden confidence come from? Wasn't he supposed to be feeling ashamed? Guilty? And why was she laughing?
"Nah, she's as crazy as you said," the girl said, finally noticing the knife in my hand—the one I had subconsciously been holding this entire time, the one meant to protect me from intruders. Now it just made me look insane.
"As you said?" My voice cracked a little, the words stinging more than I expected.
"She's my cousin," Danilo explained. "We were both supposed to stay over—with you."
My heart sank.
Stay over. There it was again. The phrase rang in my head like a bell I couldn't unhear.
Now the anger melted into something else—embarrassment, maybe. Shame. I suddenly felt like a fool.
"There's no way Mom agreed to that," I muttered.
"She did," he insisted. "She wasn't going to let me stay alone with you. Emilia's a trusted adult."
Trusted adult? I looked her up and down. She looked seventeen, tops.
"I still don't get why I have to spend the weekend with you both in the first place," I said as I finally stepped into my room. Thank God it was still in one piece.
Danilo followed behind me. "They wanted us to get to know each other better, I guess. Maybe even become… family."
His voice softened at the end, hopeful, like a kid wishing for something big on Christmas Eve