12 | The Floral Box

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Nolan glanced over his shoulder as he crept into the kitchen.

Greg was in the shower. Caleb was playing a video game. It was the perfect time.

At the counter, he reached for the medium-sized, floral box labeled recipes in his mom's handwriting. Before everything happened, Greg and their mom used to use this box for recipes they either copied from the internet or created themselves. Now, it also housed Greg's on-hand funds.

Nolan stuffed the twenties inside and snapped the box shut.

Just in time. He'd barely set the box back next to the salt shaker when a voice made him jump, "Whatcha doing?"

He spun. Greg raked a towel through his hair, clad in a ratty T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. "I'm getting something to eat," he said, his nerves making the words snappier than intended.

"Okay." Greg's eyebrows rose. "You okay?"

"Fine." He made a bowl of Frosted Flakes and left. He wasn't even hungry, but he wasn't about to waste a good bowl of cereal.

"Are you being snippy?" Caleb asked as Nolan dropped onto the couch.

"Snippy?"

"Yeah, he is," Greg said. He'd appeared in the doorway again, this time towel-less. "Are we good?" he asked, eyebrows creased.

"Yeah," Nolan said.

Greg narrowed his eyes, but nodded. "Okay. I have homework to do."

"Your book is boring!" Caleb called over his shoulder. He stuck out his tongue, fingers tapping swiftly against the controller.

"Agreed, dude, agreed!"

Ice cream place is out.

Nolan had barely hit Send when someone responded. It was so odd, being a part of a group chat again. And even back in Ann Arbor, he'd never been in a chat with more than two people, unless it was for a class project or something. Now, his phone buzzed constantly.

At first, he'd felt a bit like an invader—still did, to be honest. The name of their group chat was an inside joke he didn't understand—fine fam from alabam? What? But as the days ticked by, the notifications became just another part of daily life.

Andy was the one who'd responded. Damn!!! I really wanted ice cream

Willow's response was immediate. Swear jar.

SHERIGHEIRH

Swear jar.

WHAT

Don't think we don't know what you meant

Nolan snorted. I'll see if there's another ice cream place that'll let us film, he typed.

See, Sison??? That's called being pRODUCTIVE

Or pity, Max said.

Maxwell that was so uncalled for

Maxwell? Max asked.

I was trying something

I don't like it

Me neither

Another snort.

"Who are you talking to?" Caleb asked. He was next to him on the couch, a book in hand.

"No one," Nolan drawled. He cleared his throat and wiped a threatening smile from his face.

I'm sorry the public outings are giving you so much trouble, Erin said.

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