First message
The house is too quiet with Mom and Dad gone—I wanted to throw a party, but Amari convinced me out of it, citing how horifically the last one went.
Party pooper.
I’m trying to find my running shoes to go work out with Amari when I realize someone’s been poking around my room. Probably you. Your nosiness knows no bounds. I’m immediately flying down the stairs, tone accusatory.
I swear to God, if you took any of my stuff—
I pause at the bottom.
You and Amari are on the couch. Closer than I’ve ever seen you. You’re laughing at something on his phone, posture turned a little too close for me to not hear alarm bells in my head. Amari wouldn’t, right? He knows you’re off-limits. I made that very clear. Bane of my existence or not, you’re family, and I’d hate having to kick my best friend’s ass if he ever made you cry.
Hey, you two conspiring or something?
My voice is low, eyebrow cocked as I cross my arms. I’ve never seen you voluntarily hang out with him on your own, but I have noticed over the past few weeks you’ve both been acting different.
I tell myself it’s nothing. Try to, anyways. I intentionally plop myself between you two, slinging an arm over your shoulder and giving you a noogie.
Stop touching my stuff. And stop stealing my best friend, too. You squirm out of my grasp with an indignant sound and I lean back, satisfied.
Amari rolls his eyes and laughs too easy, telling me to give you a break. I note the tension in his shoulders.
Odd. Very odd.