Emery and I are playing video games on the couch when my mom comes in with the laundry hamper.
"You're crushing his limbs," she chastises. I look down and realize that Emery is folded like a pretzel in my arms. Reluctantly, I detangle our limbs.
My mom is very protective of Emery, my dad, too. I think they like him better than me. He always finishes all of his food - even the spinach - which shocks me every time. He addresses my parents respectfully, not as Yo and Hey. And he does much better than me in school.
I have dozens of notifications on my phone. Emery has none. I'm more popular than Emery will ever be, but I don't care. I ignore them in favour of snuggling with him.
We eat, and then I watch Emery play violin with my chin in my hands, and then we play video games together until his grandma is here to pick him up.
Emery is frustrated when he has to go home. He can't afford a good PC or console so his progress is halted until the next time he comes over. I promise I'll come up with a solution.