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open for her if Jim was still home later.
    Ava hurried to T’s car, slipped in, and slammed the door behind her. She winced as the motion jarred her arm. T didn’t notice. Instead, he put the car into reverse and blasted the AC. Ava flicked her vent closed and leaned back.
    T looked at her sideways. He let his gaze linger before he spoke. “You okay?”
    “Fine,” she said, shutting her eyes for a moment.
    T sighed and shook his head at her. “How long have we known each other, Ava?”
    She glanced at him knowingly. He had that look on his face, like he had been thinking about her for a long time, probably on the drive over to her house. It was Ava’s turn to sigh.
    “I don’t know, T. A couple years.”
    “Right. That’s kind of a long time, yeah?”
    “Sure.”
    “What I’m saying is, you don’t ever tell me anything. Half the time you treat me like a complete stranger. It drives me crazy.”
    Ava opened and closed her fist. The action made the bruise on her arm sore, but it was good to have a distraction. “What is it you want me to tell you? I’m not that interesting.”
    He scoffed. “You’re plenty interesting, Ava. The fact that you think you aren’t interesting is interesting.” He angled his rearview mirror so he could look at her without her knowing. He did it often, letting his eyes linger wherever they wanted. “What are you going to this guy’s house for, anyways,” he asked.
    “Food.”
    “That’t it? You don’t even know these people. Let me buy you dinner. There’s this place….”
    Her face didn’t change. She was still pulsing her right fist, still refusing to make eye contact with him.
    “He owes me money,” she explained further.
    “So just pick it up. I’ll wait outside.”
    “No, that’s alright. I’m good.”
    Having dinner with T would not have been so bad, but he would expect it to happen again. And again.  Next thing you know we’ll be having pillow fights and making brownies.  Ava bit her lip against the idea of that.
    T frowned even deeper at her silence, his hands still on the wheel as he drove. “I want to be friends, Ava,” he said, fr ustration leaking into his voice. “That’s all I’m saying. I’m not asking you to marry me. Just friends.”
    “We’ re already friends.”
    He scoffed again. “Friends talk. Friends hang out. Friends call each other when they need someone to listen to their problems. All I get to do is give you a ride once in a while.”
    “And I’m grateful for that. There. Friendship.”
    T pulled up at the address Ava had given him and put the car in park. “Call me when you want me to pick you up,” h e said. His words were choppy. Ava could tell he was pissed.
    “Thank you for the ride, T,” she said as genuinely as she could.
    “Sure.”
    Ava wanted to take a shower to rid herself of all the unreturned affection he’d spilled out on her. She hated talks like that. Miriam had them with her all the time. Even when she was a little girl, Ava would cringe. “It feels like you’re trying to choke me,” she’d say.
    She sighed and walked up the driveway.   God, don’t let these people smother me to death.  The house looked decent enough. Simple, charming, birdhouse mailbox on the front lawn, blue and white shutters on the windows. She wiped her feet on a welcome mat that actually said “welcome” on it, and took a deep breath.
     
    Inside the Anders house, Karma was slicing chunks of raw steak with remarkable precision. When the doorbell sounded, Cale, who had been pacing near the refrigerator, scrambled, knocking his mother’s handiwork off of the counter. He fumbled as he caught the meat midair, and Karma snagged the cutting board before it clattered to the tile. Cale placed the steaks back onto the cutting board and licked the blood off his fingers, a nervous reaction.
    With her thumb, Karma wiped a smudge of dirt from her son’s forehead. He winced at how cold her hands were. Earlier, his mother had