The evening had come quickly, and the Bennett women were settling in. Maurice had spent the night out as he was prone to do. They had made their polite conversation with Colin, and Liza retired to her room. Colin was still at the apartment and had made no move to leave. Liza’s guess was that he would hang around until Bev invited him to stay the night. He probably didn’t even have a hotel. She tucked in the last corner of the bedsheet to military snugness. She wanted to hear any movement on this side of the room. Liza was bent over, tucking the other side of the sheet in, when she felt eyes on her. She turned and saw Colin’s tiny green eyes squinting in appreciation. She was suddenly conscious of her thin T-shirt and swaying breasts. The ratty material of her sleep shorts seemed transparent and indecent.

“So when are you headed to the hotel?” Liza asked.

“I’m not even sure Ubers come to this part of town. It’s gotten so late.” Colin leaned against the doorjamb.

“Oh, they do. I can get you one,” Liza offered, almost pleadingly.

“I could never. Your mom tells me you’re not making ends meet,” Colin said. Liza could kill that woman. Colin followed the peaks of Liza’s nipples with his eyes.

She folded her arms over her chest. “I’m just gonna pop off to the bathroom.”

Liza came back in the room with at least two pairs of everything on. A sports bra, tights with fuzzy pants over them, and a big button-down shirt over her thin T-shirt.

Her phone buzzed on top of her cluttered dresser, and she picked it up, hoping WIC had sent her something funny or thought-provoking. But it was a number she’d only seen once before.

How’s Play Cousin?

Three stupid words, and she was smiling like a goofball.

New phone. Who dis?

There was a long pause. She was about to put the phone down when it buzzed again.

As a response, a GIF of her Netherfield Must Go photobomb popped up. She did everything she could to hold in her smile, but Colin sidled up next to her.

“Are you cold?” he said, noting her copious layers of clothing.

“Yeah, came down with a big chill.”

“Who’s got you smirking at this time of night?” Colin asked. He had the nerve to look semi-jealous.

“It’s no one,” she said and went back to the bathroom. She closed and locked the door and put the lid down on the toilet to sit. Thumbs poised delicately on the screen, she responded:

You mean Gropey McEyeBang? He’s doing just fine . . .

Hmm . . . I think you can handle yourself.

I have my ways

She snapped a picture of her ankle with both her colorful tights and fuzzy pajama pants rolled into long men’s socks.