I think I won't be able to sleep without Thomas by my side if we keep this streak up.

Perhaps that's the point of the streak; don't quit doing it.

I just like it way too much. Waking up to him still asleep, most of the time. And every day, we awake a little closer. Saturday, on the ground, was an exception because we fell, but there is a clear difference between the first night sleeping next to each other and now. Less space between us, and it feels more natural.

Anyway, I think Thomas is doing quite okay. The memorial seems to have done him well. It was a nice goodbye to Mr. Keller. And the talk with Teresa put him at more ease. I do notice he is not very excited about walking Mango. Not excited like before. Which is very understandable.

When he turns on the TV after school, the streak has been going on for five days. It's currently Monday. Mom isn't very thrilled with me having sleepovers on school days, but I tell her every time 'Thomas just needs support' and she grudgingly goes along with it.

"—were found with multiple stab wounds," the newsreader says.

We share a glance before our backs straighten, attention on high alert.

"They married just a week ago. Vince and Mary Arlidge," the man says. "The police received a call around eleven PM at night. Unfortunately, the caller didn't share any identifying information. The police will soon search for the caller. No doubt another interview will follow."

Thomas buries his head in his hands beside me.

"It's okay. You can immediately tell them about the book."

"But that makes my mom suspicious!"

I hadn't thought of that yet.

"Yes— but I mean, Indie wouldn't murder people. Was she home the night you found the couple?"

"Yes. It's not like I believe my mom would do that. I just don't want to give her any problems. Besides, that alibi wouldn't count. We don't know when the couple was killed."

"But the police do," I tell him. "They can figure it out like that."

"And what if she ends up not being home at that time?"

I'm not sure what to reply. So I put a hand on his shoulder, "I don't know. Just don't worry about it. Your mom has nothing to hide—"

The front door slamming closed cuts me off. Thomas immediately turns off the TV when voices drift in.

I peek around the living room corner. Not very surprisingly, it's Indie and Mom. They're headed to the kitchen. Haven't seen us.

"I just... I don't know what to do, Dahlia," Indigo says. The frustration is dripping off her voice. Sadness, almost.

It fits way too well with the conversation we just had, unfortunately.

"Tell them," Mom says softly. "You need to tell them."

"I don't know how they will react. Dan, okay, maybe won't make a big problem out of it, but Thomas... I don't want his life to turn upside down."

Our eyes meet. I shrug. Ten different emotions flicker across Thomas's face. From curiosity to shock.

This doesn't sound like murder.

That's something, right?

"Yes. I understand that. But you can't keep this from them. It won't do you any favors."

Thomas gets enough of it. Just like that, he stands up. "Keep what from me?"

"Thomas!" Indie nearly falls off her chair.

I appear as well, and Mom's frown gets deeper. "What are you guys doing here?"

"I live here," Thomas says, "and she basically does, too, at this point." He strides into the kitchen. "Tell me what's going on."

"Not without your father present."

"Mom!"

"Thomas," she mimics in a high voice. "Now that you're here, get me some milk."

"Since when do you drink milk?"

"I don't know. Just give me some," she says, a little too harshly.

Yeah, something's going on.

"Wait, let me guess," Thomas begins.

"No. I'm not replying to your theories."

"You're definitely not having a divorce. Are we sending Mango away? Will you get a new job, far away from here? Hold up— am I getting a sibling? Or is it just something you're being dramatic about? Did we win the lottery?"

Her expression morphs into a whole spectrum of emotions. Like mother, like son. "As I said, I'm not telling you before your father gets home."

Thomas slips his phone out of his pocket, dials, holds the device against his ear, and says, "Dad, get home right now. Mom has an emergency." Then he hangs up. "Okay, Sage and I are going upstairs, bye."

I have barely registered all of it when we arrive in his room.

"I think we won the lottery," he says. "No, wait. She'd be more excited. What if I actually get a sibling?"

"Then I'm wishing you luck."

I think Minho heard that, because he is calling me.

Sighing, I pick up. "Yes? Hello?"

"OH MY GOD VIVIETTE YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED I AM DYING I CANT BREATHE."

"Stop yelling," I say.

"THIS IS CRAZY! LIKE—"

"What is?"

At this point, I'm not even worried something has actually happened. Minho likes to yell at the phone for no reason.

"NO. YOU WON'T BELIEVE IT!"

"What?"

"Your package got delivered," he announces, tone now normal.

"Was that it?"

"What do you think, Jason Momoa showed up at our front door? Yes, that's it."

"I hate you."

Yet I am unable to contain my excitement after I've hung up. "Okay, I need to try everything on right now."

"Can I see? Fashion show?"

Seriously, how can he sound so tough, and then one second later, he's asking things like this with the most eager voice ever?

"Yeah, sure—" I stop. "It's nightgowns and bikinis. Are you sure you want to see that?"

"I've seen you in both of that before, haven't I?"

"True." I take ahold of his bicep, forcing him down the stairs. As I do that, I shake my head. "This shirt is way too big for you, Thomas. When you buy it, you have to look at the stitching line and see if it matches with your shoulder. You're not doing that."

"It looks fine on me," he argues.

"It's too big," I repeat.

"It'll last longer."

"You're no longer ever growing. So no, it won't. But it's nice material. I'll give you that. And a nice shirt."

"See? It's not that bad."

I flash a small smile at him before crossing the— oh, well. If Thomas hadn't pulled me back, I'd be lying below that motorcycle right now.

"And you need to look at the road, Sage."

"I know, I know. I just can't wait to see my clothes. Did you know how long it took for them to arrive?" I pull him inside the house. "Minho! Where is it?"

If he pranked me, I will kill him.

"On your bed!" He yells.

I hurry up the stairs. Thomas clumsily follows along, eyebrows raised when he sees the package on my bed as well.

I've got one of those shielding walls, decorated with flowers, so that's awesome to use right now. I take it away from the corner of my room and prop it in front of Thomas. "You ready?"

"I think so."

He's going to get so bored. It will take ages for me to decide what things I want to keep and throw away.

Behind the shielding wall, I open the package. A ton of bikinis, bathing suits, and nightgowns fall out. And then I see t-shirts I don't remember ordering.

One of them is just a simple white one. Everyone needs that in my life. "What do you think?" I ask, jumping away from the wall.

He stares. "It's a white shirt."

"No shit. Do you like it?"

"Sure. Just didn't think I'd ever see you in a simple white shirt."

"I have accessories," I assure. The next shirt is the same one but in purple. Again, he approves with another lazy-ish reply.

The next thing is also purple, but it's a nightgown. Doesn't have a lot of details other than the black lines at the bottom. I might add my own details.

"What about this?" I twirl around, letting the satin material flow around me. "It's to sleep in."

His nose scrunches along with his eyebrows. "It's too small."

I look in the mirror. Indeed, the gown barely covers me. "Luckily I have another one in a bigger size."

"Smart thinking," he comments, adjusting his position.

"Yup." I nearly knock things over while putting the other gown on, then show it to him again. "This better?"

"Much."

Next is a bikini. The bottom is pink and high-waisted. Almost like a pair of shorts. The top is off-shoulder. White with pink—the same color as the shorts—floral designs.

"I was really excited about this one," I tell him as I twirl again. My pulse fastens as I pose. "It's like, not too boring but decent enough around family and in public. Stylish but decent!"

"Wow— yeah, that's, um, a nice one."

One of my eyebrows arches.

"What?" He shifts, avoiding my gaze. "It's been a while since I've seen you in a bikini and not a bathing suit."

"True," I admit. "But, is it okay?" Self conscious, I turn to the mirror. My nerves are fluttering. "Or should I stick with the swimming suits?"

"No, this is fine."

"Fine says nothing. Vague."

"It's good, Sage," he assures. "You look nice in it."

My face lights up. So do the fires inside my body. "Thanks. Okay, next up is... another bikini. This one is pretty simple."

A black one with triangle cups. Little silver glitters decorate the bottoms, luckily. I would've found it too boring if it wasn't for that.

Yeah, the glitters convinced me to buy it.

I step away from the wall, feeling a little too bare in front of him. Standing like this, outside of the pool context, feels different. My cheeks heat up as he takes a moment to reply. His eyes follow every single movement of mine with such... intensity that I'm not sure what to think.

"That's... yeah, it's good," Thomas says. He takes one of my million pillows and props it on his lap to rest his elbows on, so his head can lean on his palms. "You should keep that one," he encourages.

"I will," I say. My smile grows back. "Thank you. Okay, now for the last few things, I've got two bathing suits. One with a cut in the stomach and one that's kind of simple. Oh, and another nightgown."

One by one, I show them to him. Just like me, Thomas disapproves the ones that don't fit and approves the ones that do fit. No fails at the designs here.

"That was it." Back in my normal outfit, I sit down next to him. "Was that very boring?"

"No. It was fun, I guess." He shrugs a bit. "Are you gonna customize some of them yourself?"

I smile, purely because he predicted it. "Of course I will. Wait, I can fix your shirt immediately. And you have something in your hair." I pluck it out with ease. "Do you want me to fix it?"

"Eh, sure," he says. "Just let me go to the bathroom first."

"Got it."

He gets up fast, movements a little awkward, and leaves the room. A wave of cool air flies into my room when he closes the door. I think this fashion show made the degrees go up in my room.

And in my body. The blush did not fail to prove that