Cass doesn’t respond directly, but the next day, she sends Lulu a picture of a pile of clothes, and Lulu recognizes the bra that’s pooled on top of it, a flimsy piece of lace she remembers because it seemed so at odds with Cass’s style when she first saw it on her body.

Lulu sends Cass an empty orange peel, still intact as one long, carefully peeled strip, and then an image of her lipstick-smudged pillow. She fell asleep with her makeup on last night.

She holds her breath when she sees Cass has texted her back almost immediately. It’s the first sight of her skin Lulu’s had in weeks: Cass’s sheets caught in the curl of her fist.

Lulu takes a selfie. This is what I look like when I miss you.

Cass asks, Can I come over?

Lulu says, Of course you can.

Cass must have had time to get shy on the drive; she lingers on Lulu’s doorstep like she might not be allowed to come in, one hand resting lightly against the frame, fingertips tapping out an uneven, unconscious rhythm.

Lulu stands inside, feeling slightly stranded.

“Lulu?” Deirdre calls. “Is someone there?”

“A friend,” Lulu says. “We’re studying.”

Too late: Deirdre’s spotted something she can do to make herself appear motherly, and now there’s nothing Lulu can do to stop her. She clacks her way into the front hall, still in heels from her workday. “Hi!” she says. “We were just about to sit down to dinner, actually, Lu.”

“Can you just put mine in the fridge? I can warm it up later.”

“Maybe your friend—” Deirdre turns to Cass to supply her name.

“Cass,” Cass says.

“Maybe Cass is hungry,” Deirdre suggests.

“I’m fine,” Cass says. “Thanks.”

“Are you sure? Don’t let this one make you feel bad about having an appetite.” Deirdre is very fond of reminding Lulu that she doesn’t diet, and Lulu is very good at not saying That’s only because you don’t have to when she does.

“I’m fine,” Cass repeats.

“Well, come sit with us for a minute, at least,” Deirdre says. “Lulu almost never brings friends over, and especially not to study. Do you have a test tomorrow?”

“Calc,” Lulu says, inventing wildly. This is probably the least sexy thing that’s happened to anyone, ever. She tries to imagine how she’ll set any kind of mood if they ever get upstairs.

“Fifteen minutes,” Deirdre says. “I made crispy chicken, so it’ll really be much better hot. And Olivia hasn’t seen you in days, Lu.”

“My little sister,” Lulu supplies for Cass, who nods.

“You’ll study better on a full stomach,” Deirdre says decisively. “As long as we’re eating, Cass, I’ll make you a plate?”