Chapter 3
If you've never stood in front of your closet debating whether a hoodie makes you look emotionally stable or completely unhinged, congratulations on your healthy psyche. Meanwhile, I was holding a blue sweater like it was a bomb wire and I didn't know whether to cut the red or the blue.
"It's dinner," I muttered to myself. "It's a normal family dinner. With your foster parents. And their son. Who happens to be stupidly handsome now. But still—totally casual."
The sweater hit the bed with a dull thud. Outfit attempt number two: a loose T-shirt and jeans. Innocent. Boring. Safe.
I put it on.
Stared in the mirror.
Immediately hated it.
"Why do I look like I just got friendzoned by a loaf of bread?"
Off it went.
Third outfit: dark high-waisted jeans, fitted but not desperate, paired with a soft grey top that hit the shoulder just enough to suggest accidental coolness.
"Okay," I breathed. "We can work with this."
I brushed my hair—twice. Added a dab of lip balm. Immediately wiped it off.
Then I stared at myself for a full minute, looking for some sign of poise or mystery. Found none.
Just me. Dali Perkins. Seventeen. Sarcastic. Hyperventilating on the inside.
I heard a laugh from downstairs. His laugh. Again.
Okay, no big deal. It was just Raven. Raven who had hugged me once like the world might fall apart if he let go. Raven who left because of me. Raven who now sounded like a man and looked like a Men's Health cover and smelled like emotionally confusing woodlands.
I took the stairs like someone entering a hostage negotiation.
At the bottom step, I paused.
From the living room, I could see Jayden and Uncle Dave still sitting at the kitchen counter. Fiona was pulling something out of the oven. Chicken maybe? A casserole? My stomach didn't care.
And then Raven appeared.
He stepped backward into view from the hallway, barefoot in dark joggers and a charcoal grey T-shirt that was doing unspeakable things to my self-control. His hair was a little messy, like he'd run a hand through it.
He turned—and saw me.
Our eyes met.
I froze.
Then he smiled.
That same stupid smile.
"Hey," he said, voice warm, easy. "Nice top."
Oh no.
It was too casual. Too smooth. Like he just noticed me as a person and not a panicked human disaster who had spent the last 45 minutes trying to look like she hadn't tried at all.
"Oh," I said. "This? Yeah. Thanks. It's…clothing."
Why, Dali. Why.
He chuckled and stepped aside to let me pass.
I walked into the kitchen like I hadn't just embarrassed myself with the word clothing, grabbed a glass of water, and stood with it like a shield. Behind me, I could feel his presence like a warm light—close enough to fry every rational thought I had.
"Dinner's almost ready," Fiona said brightly, still fussing with the oven mitts. "Dali, grab the salad from the fridge?"
"Yeah." I cleared my throat. "Yep. Salad. I can do that."
Cool. Normal. Functioning.
I opened the fridge, reached for the bowl—
—and slammed my hand into the milk carton instead.
Raven reached past me, smooth and unbothered, and pulled out the actual salad bowl like a functioning member of society.
He handed it to me with a smile. "Tag team."
I took it from him without making eye contact.
If I made eye contact, I might combust.
__________
Dinner was chicken parmesan. It smelled amazing, which was rude, because I had completely lost the ability to digest food.
We sat around the table like it was just any other evening.
Uncle Dave was across from me, Jayden to my right. Aunt Fiona sat at the head, closest to the kitchen. Raven had taken the seat directly across from me.
Of course he had.
He probably thought nothing of it. It was just a seat. But to me? It was a live broadcast of his face in high definition.
"So, how was the flight?" Aunt Fiona asked as she passed him the bread basket.
"Long," Raven said, tearing off a piece. "But not terrible. I actually slept for most of it. I think jet lag gave up trying to ruin me."
"I still don't get how it's already tomorrow in Australia," Jayden said, pointing a breadstick at no one. "Time zones are a scam."
"They're not a scam," I muttered.
"They feel like a scam."
Uncle Dave laughed. "Buddy, you once said you thought the moon had to charge like a phone."
"I was six!"
"You were eleven."
Jayden groaned and shoved a mountain of pasta into his mouth.
I tried to focus on my food—cut a piece of chicken, move it around the plate, pretend to chew. But every so often, I'd glance up and Raven would be looking at someone—sometimes his mom, sometimes his dad, sometimes me—and he'd smile.
And I'd forget how to use utensils.
"How's college shaping up?" Uncle Dave asked, reaching for the salad.
"Good," Raven replied. "My classes are decent—two psych courses and a communications elective. I'm still trying to figure out if I want to stick with behavioral science or switch to something else."
Psych. Of course. The one major that meant he could probably read minds.
"What about roommates?"Aunt Fiona asked. "Are you living with that friend of yours?"
"Nah," Raven said. "He flaked last minute, so I got a single. It's a little smaller, but I actually kind of like having my own space."
"More room for video games and protein powder," I said before I could stop myself.
He raised an eyebrow at me, amused. "You think that's my whole personality?"
"I mean," I gestured at his arms with my fork. "You're not exactly the 'skips arm day' type."
He laughed.
He actually laughed. A low, quiet, deeply unfair laugh.
"Well," he said, smirking now. "I did miss your sarcasm."
My fork clinked gently against my plate.
I looked down immediately. "Cool. Love that for me."
Aunt Fiona beamed. "It's so nice having all of us here for dinner again. It feels like forever."
"It has been forever," Jayden chimed in, mouth full. "The last time Raven was here, Dali couldn't even talk in full sentences."
My head snapped toward him. "Jayden."
"No offense! You were just really shy and kind of—uh—blinky."
"Blinky?"
"Yeah, like, lots of blinking. Like Morse code. But with eyeballs."
"I'm going to set your game console on fire."
"You say that, but then you'll feel bad and help me beat the dragon level again."
I opened my mouth to argue—but Raven was still smiling. At me. That same look. Soft. Like I was a person he actually liked being around.
Like he noticed me.
And that was so much worse.
I dropped my gaze back to my plate and tried to focus on cutting another bite.
Which was a mistake, because next came The Memory.