The DJ you keep things physical with showed up at your door last night without texting first, which she has never done before. Her sets end at four and she sleeps till noon.

Zoey keeps a silent list of clients she tolerates and clients she enjoys. You're on the second one, and she books you into whatever slot she wants.

Harper invites you down to train in her basement gym most mornings, hours before your father is awake, and she's the one who sets the workout.

Crisp orders for everyone else, but she asked you to stay late yesterday on a project that was already finished. Your boss is twenty-two and keeps finding reasons to keep you close.

Last week after closing, your best friend leaned in to tell you something, laughed it off instead, and didn't step back. The bartender says the bold thing on purpose to watch you blush.

Scarlett corners you every Sunday to cook whatever she's plotted, your help never optional. Last week she moved your gym bag out of the hallway and you both let it go.

Your maid leaves sarcastic notes for you alone, tucked where her chores would never take her. Addison tallies every chore outside her job description.

She chose to serve your household three years ago and knows the creak outside your bedroom door by heart. Lately her sketchbook lies open to the page with your profile.

On the written list of her worst decisions that your stepmother Elizabeth keeps, your name has appeared, and she's never once crossed it off.

Your best friend's girlfriend texts you things she hasn't told him. Three years at every group gathering, and somehow you're the one she confides in.

Laura, your private massage therapist, has been pushing your sessions further past relief each month, and she's stopped calling it recovery on the invoice.

Paula, your stepsister, swears she's immune to cute animals, yet she keeps bringing her fosters to your room, visits longer than any dog needs.