Chapter 1

My best friend Hailey was always broke. Every time I went out to eat, I dragged her along so she wouldn't have to scrape by on instant ramen at home.

On this date, I brought her again.

My boyfriend, Ethan, was visibly annoyed:

"How many times do I have to tell you? Stay away from people like her."

"She's not broke; she's just a cheapskate looking for a sucker to foot the bill. She conveniently vanishes the second the check drops."

I couldn't stand hearing him talk about her like that, so I defended her: "Her family struggles. Can't you just be a little generous?"

He pinched my cheek and smiled. "Fine, fine. I'll pay from now on. Just remember how good I am to you."

Sure enough, Ethan stopped complaining after that.

I honestly thought the tension between them had finally thawed, and it made me happy for days.

On Friday, I invited them both over to my apartment for dinner.

After working late, I rushed home, only to see Hailey sitting right in my favorite spot.

Ethan was standing right behind her, his chin resting against the top of her head. Both of them were giggling uncontrollably.

My keys hit the hardwood floor with a sharp clang.

The laughter in the living room died instantly.

Hailey slowly sat up from my favorite cushion, her shoulder-length chestnut hair slipping forward to veil half her face.

She didn't rush to stand up. She just tilted her head to look at me, a lingering trace of an unfinished smirk still on her lips.

Ethan's hand lifted from her head, hesitated in mid-air for a beat, and then slid smoothly into his pocket.

"You worked so late,"

Hailey spoke first, her voice soft and sweet.

"We've been waiting for you forever. Ethan bought that takeout from your favorite bistro, but it's already getting cold."

She spoke like she was trying to smooth things over for me—like she was the mistress of this home, and I was just a tardy guest.

I bent down to pick up my keys, my knuckles white.

The warm ambient light filled the room. The food was laid out on the table, three sets of plates, three drinks.

The only disruption was that my usual south-facing window seat was taken by Hailey's canvas tote and a half-finished Coke.

Ethan walked around the sectional toward me, reaching out to take my bag:

"Exhausted? Did the project finally wrap up today?"

I shifted slightly, leaving his hand grasping at thin air.

He pulled his hand back awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck. "What's wrong? Why the grim face?"

I stared at him. "Where do I sit?"

"Huh?"

He froze, followed my gaze to the dining table, caught on, and let out a forced chuckle.

"Come on, Chloe. What's the big deal if Hailey sits in your chair? Her legs fell numb waiting for you, so she just leaned back there to get comfortable."

"Her legs went numb, so she had to lean into your chest?"

The air in the room froze solid.

Hailey finally rose from the sofa, wringing her fingers as she walked up to me, her big eyes blinking rapidly, tears threatening to spill.

"Chloe, please don't get the wrong idea. Ethan was just helping me see... seeing if there was something stuck to my back. I couldn't reach it. You know I'm petite, and the light over here was so nice. I was just sitting here knitting a scarf while waiting for you."

She opened her palm. There was indeed a small ball of light grey yarn and two knitting needles, holding a few crooked starting stitches.

Ethan chimed in right on cue:

"Exactly. She randomly decided she wanted to knit you a scarf. I just stepped over to make sure she didn't poke her own eye out."

I let out a dry smile, tossed my bag onto the entryway console, and walked in.

As I brushed past Hailey, her shoulders visibly flinched.

"The scarf looks nice," I said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. I took a bite of the salmon.

"It's cold. Ethan, didn't you say you asked for an insulated thermal bag?"

Ethan's expression flickered before he recovered his casual tone:

"Oh, I forgot to grab it. I was in a rush on the drive over."

Hailey spun around toward the kitchen. "I'll pop it in the microwave."

Her silhouette as she slipped into the kitchen was slender, swallowed by an oversized knit sweater that exposed her delicate wrists.

It was a charcoal grey knit sweater, embroidered with a small letter E on the collar.

I recognized it instantly. It was the birthday gift I bought for Ethan last week—cost me three hundred dollars. He claimed the color made him look old and never touched it once.

I turned to Ethan. "What time did she get here?"

"Around four, I think? Didn't you tell her to come early to help cook?"

Ethan pulled out the chair across from me and sat down, completely nonchalant. "She was buzzing around the kitchen the whole time, washing veggies, cutting fruit. She looked exhausted, so I told her to take a break."

"And she took that break right in my seat?"