My mouth falls open and I struggle to come up with words other than fuck no or why me, God? or something else that properly expresses my feelings. When in reality, I should’ve slammed the door in her face and broken out the tequila hiding in the back of my pantry. Because while I wait for the right words to come, my sister shoulders her way past me, right into my apartment.

Again I ask, why me???

“Oh my goodness!” Daisy looks around my eclectic apartment (by lack of direction, not an actual design) with wide eyes and a wider smile. “Your place is so cute!”

“Um, thanks.” I lock the door behind me and try to unscramble my brain. “Come in, I guess.”

“Oh!” Daisy spins around and shows me a bag I didn’t notice her holding. “I brought food. You like Thai, right?”

I want to lie and say no.

I want to say anything to get her out of my apartment as fast as possible, but I am actually very hungry. Plus, Thai is my favorite, and even if it wasn’t, it sure as hell beats the Velveeta shells and cheese I was going to eat for dinner.

I guess spending an evening with her will be fine. It’s not her fault that her presence causes my anxiety to spike and the insecurity constantly lingering beneath the surface to claw at my skin.

Also, if I kick out my dad’s favorite child, I will no doubt hear from him ASAP. A quiet evening with her should keep him off my case for a while. Anything is worth that.

“I love Thai.” I point to the dining table I’ve only eaten at once before. “You can take it out while I grab plates.”

“I hope your plates are big, I got a ton of food,” Daisy’s perpetually sunny voice says.

Five years my junior, Daisy couldn’t be more different than me. And not only because of the blue eyes, blond hair, verging on six feet tall, physical stuff either. She’s rainbows, sunshine, glitter, and green juice. She was a cheerleader in high school and I’m pretty sure her superlative was “Most Likely to Achieve World Peace” or some bullshit like that. Whereas I love thunderstorms, I hate glitter with a fiery passion, and my senior year, I was quite literally voted “Most Likely to Leave and Never Come Back.”