Page 146 of Show Me

“The skeletal system.”

“You’re writing a paper about bones?”

Her eyes narrow. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Seems pretty straightforward.”

She sets the highlighter down. “No, it isn’t.”

I push off the couch and wander over. “Let me see.”

She turns the laptop toward me without hesitation. That still catches me off guard. A few weeks ago she would’ve closed the screen. Now she shares it.

Most of it looks like another language. There are diagrams. Labels. Words I don’t recognize. “You know what all this means?”

“Mostly.”

“That's concerning.”

A laugh slips out before she can stop it, causing my chest to tighten. She doesn’t laugh enough. “You're ridiculous.’

“Probably.” I point at the screen. “Why are there so many bones?”

She stares at me. “There’re supposed to be that many.”

“Seems excessive.”

Her laugh comes easier this time. Real. Unforced. The sound settles somewhere low in my chest. I lean against the counter beside her. Close enough to remain in her space, but not close enough to distract her. At least that's what I tell myself.

She turns back to the assignment. Keeps typing. And this time, instead of feeling shut out, I stay right where I am while she works.

Minutes later, Squirt clomps into the room, nails clicking, snout nudging at Ruby’s leg before turning his attention to me like I’m supposed to be more useful.

“Traitor,” I mutter, scratching behind his ears.

Ruby rolls her eyes. “You couldn’t be more right. Squirt is a traitor. He sleeps by your side of the bed. He nudges you whenever he wants something. He only came to me because he was tattling on you for not feeding him.”

This time, I laugh and shake my head. “Spoiled pig.”

Once Squirt is satisfied with his scraps, I glance back at the table. “You eat?”

She shakes her head. “Not yet.”

“I made something earlier when you were in class.”

Her brows lift. “You did?”

“It’s in the fridge.”

She stands without argument, brushing past me to grab a plate. Her shoulder bumps mine on the way by, and I force myself to remain still. She’s busy, and I respect the importance of her studies. But if I had my way, she’d be in my arms, and we’d count each other’s bones.

I lean back against the counter while she heats it, watching the way she moves through the kitchen like she’s not thinking about whether I’m here anymore. Like I just… am. And I like it more than I should.

She sets the plate down at the table, picking up her pencil between bites.

“You’re going to wear a hole in that paper.” I should leave her alone, but walking out of the room feels like an insurmountable task.

“You’re going to wear a hole in that counter if you keep leaning against it while staring at me.”