Friday night means family dinner night with our two families.

Usually, at least. Adult life can be hectic, and with my twelve-year-old sister keeping herself busy with friends and hobbies, Rory's brother starting his automotive training at our local community college, Rory's own shows and competitions, and my recent promotion to Construction Manager at my company, it's... well, it's a lot. We're rarely all available.

We've been having these get-togethers for as long as I can remember; I think Rory and I were literally in diapers when the tradition first began.

Our moms are both nurses at one of our local hospitals together, in Labor & Delivery of all places, when they found out they were both pregnant within months of each other. Already friends, going through pregnancy and early childcare together brought them even closer. Our dads get along great too, regularly sneaking away to gossip like schoolboys or taste Uncle Tom's newest culinary creation. And so began our long family history.

Today we're "lucky" to have all four members of both families in attendance. And lest we forget what a ruckus the eight of us can make, Rory and I are immediately bombarded with the reminder as I push open the Evans family's front door:

A high-pitched squeal erupts from the kitchen as my sister spots us. Before either of us can even take our shoes off she's barreling towards us, untamable curls bouncing, arms out to hug me—

Ahem. Not me, I amend. She heads straight into Rory's awaiting arms where they're now locked in a bearhug.

"Maddie!" Comes a despondent shout from the kitchen. "You nearly knocked the plate out of my hand! Where are you running to— Oh, Quinn it's you. And Rory, darling, how are you?" My mom's tone flips like a coin as she pops her matching blonde head out of the kitchen archway to find us.

Rory is distracted by Maddie's instant slew of comments and questions, so I answer instead, insisting we're both good. I manage to pry off Rory's jean jacket from her shoulders and hang both our coats on the wall hooks next to me.

"I wish you could've seen me today, I learned a new jump!" Maddie answers when she's asked how her dance classes have been going. With Rory as her role model, she of course took an interest in dance as well, so she's been taking classes at a studio a little closer to my parent's place.

"That's awesome!" Rory responds, matching Maddie's enthusiasm. "Maybe I'll have time to come watch your class this week and we can grab ice cream after."

I clear my throat in mock offense.

"With your brother, too." She adds, evergreen eyes rolling to the ceiling. "He can't go without his mint chocolate chip for more than two days."

"Kids! Come help with the food, we're about to sit down!" Rory's mom shouts.

Heavy steps thunder down the wooden staircase as the lanky, younger male version of Rory appears, a ferocious gleam in his eye at the mention of food, no doubt.

"Hey, Jerrod." I greet him with a fist bump, which he almost doesn't see until his tunnel vision is interrupted by my voice.

"Oh. Hey Q."

Despite him towering over her, Rory backhands his shoulder, and then with a flick of her wrist indicates herself standing there.

"And hello, favorite elder sister of mine."

"Mmhm," she huffs.

"Am I just a speck of dust?" Maddie complains with a fierce cross of her arms.

Jerrod pats her head reassuringly, "Ohmygod," he mutters in my understanding direction. "Hello, favorite younger sister of mine."

She appears sated for a moment before her eyebrows draw together. "Why thank you, but you know I'm not your sister, right?"

He saunters away from us, eyes back on the edible prize, and stage whispers over his shoulder, "Might as well be."

Rory's snort echoes the same moment as my grunt.

"He better not eat all the garlic bread! Everyone knows that's my favorite!" Maddie huffs, chasing after him into the kitchen where Uncle Tom chastises them to stay away from his precious bread.

Rory turns her head toward me, a disgusted sneer upon her pretty lips. "Please don't ever call me your sister."

"Oh, fuck no. Ew. No worries there."

After weighing Jerrod's vague comment I realize there could be another reason behind it: "He may not have been talking about us being current siblings though, he could've been referencing them as future in-laws. Ya know how much our families love to tease us about getting married one day... I'm pretty sure my parents have our wedding planned out already. Plus, Jerrod and I get along, I wouldn't be surprised if he shipped us."

"You're probably right," she scoffs before teasing, "But fair warning, I'm not changing my last name, so you can tell them to amend the invitations."

"Sounds like a deal to me." I peer over at her, knowing damn well that she's joking, while I'm only half.

She's made it clear she has no plans for marriage anytime soon. If at all. Relationships have never really been her strong suit; She prefers a no-strings-attached type of thing, and honestly, I kind of envy her ability to compartmentalize like that.

If I could just turn off my incessant feelings sometimes, that would be fan-fucking-tastic. I'd love to just "have fun" in a relationship, but that's not how I'm programmed. I want the whole package: the connection, the trust, the sparks, and the spice. All of it.

Sue me for being a romantic, I guess. What can I say? Once you get a taste of what true love looks and feels like, how can you come back from that? I know the books I read aren't real, but our parents' blissful marriages are living proof that it's possible. Are they 100% flawless? Of course not. I know perfection is unrealistic too, I just want things to feel right.

My last serious relationship was a year ago, and good riddance. She cheated on me—and intentionally let me find out—because she "wanted to give me a taste of my own medicine." Apparently, she didn't appreciate the attention I was giving my "other relationships." AKA, she hated that I had a female best friend and she wasn't the only woman in my life, no matter how much I tried reassuring her. And that was a big point of contention for me. My existing friendships are not something I'll compromise on. Sorry, not sorry. Then you cheat on me? Sayonara, bitch.

But it's fine. I've always got my Rose.

I place my arm across her shoulders as we stand side by side in the empty foyer, gazing into the hectic scene taking place down the photo-lined hallway. The two of us are always a united front against the world—including our families.

"Ready?" I question.

She wraps an arm around my waist as her head falls against my shoulder, dark ponytail swishing along my upper arm. "If I say no, do you think we could sneak back out before they notice?"

I make a point of humming in thought before answering, "They seem preoccupied, so we'd probably have a good head start... but do you really want to risk our mothers' wrath? Better yet, do you really want to miss your dad's lasagna? Last time he made enough food that we had leftovers for a solid week."

I swear I just heard her stomach rumble. "I hate it when you're right, Quince," she sighs.

Leaning in, I leave a quick kiss on the crown of her head. "C'mon Rose, those meaty layers are calling my name."

"Princess, will you pass me the salad?" Aunt Hina calls across the lengthy table.

I have to stifle my laugh as Rory practically gags at the nickname. Her mom started calling her that when she was a baby and didn't mind it until kids started making fun of her in middle school. She started using Rory instead of Aurora since all our fellow 90's babies instantly make the connection. In my case, I still get away with calling her Rose, but she'll snarl at anyone else who tries. Nowadays, in her words, "'Princess' is just cringy. I'm twenty-six, not three".

The bitter little bitch still passes the slightly less bitter greens down the table. Jerrod intercepts the bowl and piles a second serving on his plate—next to his third serving of lasagna.

Easy conversation fills the room as we eat. These dinners can sometimes turn into a loud shouting match with three or more topics overlapping, but it's rarely strained and it's kind of nice to just sit and catch up with everyone.

It helps that it feels so incredibly comfortable and homey here in their house, between the delicious home-cooked meals and years worth of memories that fill these walls. The worn-in couch we used to jump on, the mismatched mugs collected from various trips, even the small nicks and paint drops still visible on the dining table—it's nearly impossible to look around and not see the artifacts of us all here.

My attention is pulled from a particularly large stain on the rug—compliments of Jerrod's grape juice when he was learning to drink from a big-boy glass—to Rory's elbow in my rib cage from where she sits to my right.

"Huh?" I peer at her before glancing at everyone else, hoping they missed my lapse. I think I tuned out while we were discussing work, and since there have been no major acquisitions at my construction company, it's been work as usual.

"I asked if you guys were dating anyone?" My dad probably repeats his question.

While Maddie takes after mom, it's easy to see where I got my darker coloring from. Rory and Jerrod, however, are mirror images of each other and a perfect meld of Uncle Tom's shock of red hair and freckles, and Aunt Hina's slick black hair and half-Korean features.

When dad's thick brows rise I realize he's still waiting. He's way too invested in this.

I guess we're done with boring job stuff then... and onto the love life interrogation, it seems.

"No, nothing here, you guys haven't missed much."

"Weren't you dating Kirsten?" My mom chimes in.

I let out a heavy sigh, but manage to refrain from more than that. In the corner of my eye, I catch Rory pinching her lips together in a tight smirk.

"That was months ago, Lori! You gotta keep up!" Aunt Hina comes to my rescue.

"Ohhh, you're right, sorry. I remember now, you said you broke up a while ago. How about you, Rory?"

If she wasn't generally forgetful, I'd think my mom was throwing shade.

"Nope, not interested." She gives a small smile, as though she hasn't replied the exact same way since high school.

I prepare for the impending onslaught that usually follows her statement, about not waiting forever, about starting a family, blah blah—

"I've got a girlfriend."

What. Who?

That was... Jerrod... that said that? He's never even shown interest in anyone, that I'm aware of at least. This is... out of the blue.

Rory black-slaps his shoulder, as he's sitting on her other side, and his resounding "oof" is something I'm familiar with. "Explain. How'd this happen?"

When he's done massaging his tricep he just casually shrugs. "She's in my auto mechanics class. She's cute. She asked me out to see a movie we had talked about before."

I lean forwards over Rory to comment, "Congrats, dude. Text me if you want date ideas or anything." He offers a nod.

"I had my first kiss!" Maddie announces, the words bursting from her lips like a dam released.

Double what.

"You're 12!" I cry, the same moment Rory asks, "Did they at least ask first?"

Her glare in my general direction was not missed.

"No!" Maddie replies, "But I made sure he knows to ask next time." She nods firmly.

"Next time?" My mom questions.

"Well, I dunno, we'll see... I think boys are kind of gross anyway. Do you know how often I catch one of them picking their nose in class, or whispering about a girl's new set of boobs? Seriously, this isn't elementary school... I get we're going through puberty and all, but seriously. Grow up. Ew." Her nose wrinkles up at the thought before Rory quickly reaches across the table to high-five her.

"Ohmygod," I mumble in her direction, "she's turning into a mini version of you."

This time she punches my thigh, surprisingly graceful in the tight space.

"Ow, fuck!"

In an instant, her finger is against her lips, shushing me. "Language," she patronizes.

"So sorry," I deadpan, "I meant... fudge."

Her smirk is wicked. The left side of her cheek perks up and the freckles all along her nose and cheeks catch my eye as they shift.

I raise one eyebrow in challenge. "Like you're one to talk. You're the one over here promoting violence if you really want to talk about role models."

When both sides of her lips lift into an evil grin, I know I've made a mistake.

She turns back to my sister. "Maddie, did I ever tell you that my first kiss never asked me either?"

I gasp, blood rushing to flood my cheeks and heat the tips of my ears. I raise my hands in defense, as if that will do anything to stop the verbal whiplash. "Hey, I was six! How many times do I have to apologize? I thought you wanted me to kiss you; I thought we were playing Sleeping Beauty! You made me watch it a million times, then I come over to find you laying down on the couch with your eyes closed... in a pink dress... and a crown. So yes, I kissed you!"

She shoots me an unimpressed look. "I fell asleep in a sundress. And it was a tiara. I was accessorizing."

Aunt Hina chimes in, "It was so cute too, he totally played the handsome prince role. He was all, 'Oh no, is that my Briar Rose? Perhaps a kiss shall wake her!' I wish I had taped it to show—"

My eyes go wide as Rory cries out, "Mom!"

Not to be deterred, she continues, "Well, it was cute until you woke up and literally kicked him off..."

"Yeah, because he deserved it!"

"Aaaand I learned my lesson. Not once have I kissed you without your consent since then."

Dad is quick to catch my slip-up. "Wait, you've kissed since then?" He is way, way too invested in this.

Both Rory and my heads snap in his direction. Luckily she manages a calmer answer before I blurt out something worse. "He just meant my cheek, Uncle Marco."

The two of us know that's a complete lie. I did, in fact, mean her lips, but it's not in the way my dad or anyone else would assume. I was merely referencing the other two times we've kissed: when we were 14 and she demanded I kiss her so she wasn't afraid of her first "real" one. That one was a quick peck like the first. The other was something like a year or two ago when we were at a bar and this guy was following her everywhere, so I offered to show him that she was already mine. That kiss was... more, since it needed to be convincing—and I partially blame the alcohol—but it was still chaste enough to be considered friendly intentions. The fact that he wouldn't take her "no" for an answer but left as soon as I stepped in... well, it still pisses me off. I know she can usually handle herself, but I was glad I was there that night.

Regardless, I didn't mean to let the suggestion of us kissing slip out like that. Thankfully, Rory's coverup is convincing enough that everyone at the table appears to let it go. I do kiss her cheek or head on occasion so they probably didn't think anything of it, continuing with their conversation around us.

I would think even Rory was unfazed by it since outwardly she seems to be following the discussion, eyes ping-pinging around the table... but I know her little tells, and I don't miss the way she bites onto her bottom lip as she often does when distracted or daydreaming.

This time I've got a general idea, but usually I find myself curious about exactly what it is she's thinking about with that expression.

A/N
Just to clarify any confusion, Quinn and Aurora are not related in any way. It's fairly common here (at least I did, growing up) to call your parent's friends "aunt" or "uncle". It's more respectful than just saying their first names, but a little more casual and familiar than saying "Mrs. Evans" or "Mr. Blakely". Honorifics are used pretty widely in Eastern cultures too, so I'm bringing that over from Rory's mom, Hina's, side as well.

Hope that helps :)