Laurel
...

Sophia’s sitting on the bench outside the hardware store when I find her, head down, shoulders slumped.

She looks so small, like the wind could knock her over if it tried. I’ve never seen her like this before.

I sit down next to her, the wooden bench creaking.

“Hey,” I say softly, nudging her arm. “What’s going on?”

She startles, quickly wiping her eyes, but it's too late – her mascara has left dark trails down her cheeks. "Oh it's nothing."

The lies keep coming. There's obviously more to the story. The mysterious "aunt" Dana who's definitely not her aunt, the too expensive clothes she tries to downplay, the way she sometimes flinches when her phone buzzes. But I can't call her out on it, not when she's looking at me with those red-rimmed eyes.

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” I press, trying to catch her eye. But she’s staring hard at the ground, like if she looks anywhere else, she might break apart.

After a long pause, she sighs, and her voice comes out small and broken. “He dumped me.”

I nod, not sure what to say. A moment passes before I open my mouth again.

"Come on," I say, holding out my hand. "We're going for ice cream."

She blinks. "But my shift—"

"Emergency break, girl problems, you need a tampon or whatever. Just go in there and talk to your boss."

Sophia eyes me like I'm a lunatic but she bites her lip and goes inside. When she comes back, there's a ghost of a smile on her face.

"He bought it."

"Tampons?"

"Yes."

I chuckle. "Always works."

The ghost of a smile touches her lips, and she takes my hand. Her fingers are cold despite the summer heat. I try not to think about how perfectly they fit between mine.

I wrap an arm around her, pulling her close. “I’m sorry,” I say, and I mean it. “Guys suck.”

She laughs, but it’s hollow. “You don’t know the half of it.”

"Can we get some ice cream, now?” I suggest, giving her a small smile. “It’s kind of a tradition after a breakup, right?”

Her eyes flicker up to mine.

“Yeah,” she says, wiping at her eyes quickly, “ice cream sounds good.”

Ten minutes later, we're sitting in Sweet Creams, and I'm watching Sophia knock down a triple-scoop sundae with the kind of single-minded focus usually reserved for demolition crews.

The sun through the window catches her dark hair and my fingers itch to brush back the strand that's fallen across her face.

I shouldn't be cataloging these things.

I shouldn't be noticing the way her nose scrunches when she laughs at my terrible jokes, or how her eyes light up when she talks about the beach.

I'm only here for one reason: to find out where my sister is. This isn't about... whatever my heart does when she smiles.

“This is really good,” she murmurs, her lips quirking up in a half-smile.

"We should get lunch too," I say, randomly, partly to distract myself. "My treat."

She hesitates. "You don't have to—"

"I want to." The words come out quick. "Let me help take your mind off things."

Sophia does not protest anymore.

Over burgers at the diner down the street, Sophia slowly comes back to life. She tells me about her favorite movies, her childhood dream of becoming a marine biologist, the time she tried to teach herself guitar and ended up with blisters for weeks.

I can't tell how much of it is true, but I want it to be. I want to believe there are parts of her that aren't wrapped in dirty secrets.

"We could catch a movie," she suggests suddenly, checking her phone. "Dana won't be picking me up until four."

My heart does that stupid flutter thing again. "Yeah? What do you want to see?"

We end up at the Majestic Theater, sharing a bucket of popcorn while we watch "Love in the Time of Algorithms" – some cheesy rom-com about an AI dating app that gains sentience and starts matchmaking its creators. The theater is nearly empty for the afternoon showing, the air conditioning making me glad I brought a jacket.

Halfway through the movie, Sophia leans her head on my shoulder. I freeze for a second, caught off guard by the sudden closeness, but then I relax, too. This is fine. It’s just comforting her. She’s been through a lot, and if leaning on me makes her feel better, then I’m not going to pull away.

My arm goes around her automatically, protective, as she snuggles closer.

She smells like vanilla and expensive perfume. The kind you don't buy on a retail worker's salary.

Focus. I tell myself.

But it's getting harder to with Sophia warm against my side, her breath ghosting across my collarbone. This is supposed to be about comfort, about gaining her trust so she'll tell me what she knows about the cartel

It's not supposed to feel this way.

On screen, the AI is explaining the complex algorithms of love to its skeptical creators, but all I can think about is the way Sophia's fingers have found mine in the darkness.

The way she traces absent patterns on my palm, probably without even realizing she's doing it.

"Thank you," she whispers during a quiet moment in the film.

The words are like a punch because I'm lying to her just as much as she's lying to me.

But God, I wish this was real. I wish I could tell her about Emily.

Sophia shivers slightly, and I pull her closer. She fits against me like she belongs there, and for a moment I let myself pretend.

I pretend we're just two normal people watching a bad movie, I pretend my heart isn't split between wanting to know the truth and wanting to protect her from it.

"You deserve better," I hum softly, and I mean the boyfriend she claims broke her heart, but I also mean whatever this is.

She just presses closer. My fingers find their way into her hair, stroking gently.

The movie plays on, but I'm not watching anymore. I'm too aware of Sophia's warmth, her quiet breathing, the way my body responds like we've done this before.

It's dangerous, I realize. Not just for my mission, but for my heart. Because with every minute that passes, it gets harder to remember that Sophia isn't just a beautiful, broken girl who needed comfort today. She's my only lead to finding Emily.

I shouldn’t be feeling like this. Sophia is vulnerable, and I’m supposed to be the one helping her, not getting wrapped up in these stupid feelings. But the longer she stays pressed against me, the harder it is to remind myself of that.

When the credits finally roll, Sophia lifts her head, blinking as the lights come back on. “Thanks again,” she says softly.

I nod.

We walk out of the theater and I can’t shake the guilt gnawing at me. I shouldn’t be feeling like this, not about Sophia. She’s just a girl who’s caught up in a bad situation. A girl who might know something about my sister, who might be a link to the answers I need.

But as we head back to the hardware, with her shoulder brushing against mine, I wonder if maybe… just maybe, she’s becoming something more than that.

It's foolish. The kind of thinking that gets people hurt. But I can't bring myself to let it go.

Tomorrow, I'll go back to watching and waiting, trying to piece together the puzzle of what happened to my sister. But for now, I let myself remember Sophia's head on my shoulder, her touch, and wonder if I'm in way over my head.

Ps: I definitely am.