Leo got home at one thirty-two.
Not that he made some conscious effort to check the time. It just happened. Twice. Maybe five times. He stepped inside to quiet, except the TV downstairs and Lila arguing loudly with someone through her headphones something about instant ramen qualifying as cooking.
"It absolutely counts," she said, all offended. "Heat was involved!"
Leo slipped off his shoes. "You're poisoning future generations," he told her on his way past.
Lila spun around on the couch, then froze, oozing drama. "Oh my God."
Leo frowned. "What?"
"You're nervous."
"I'm literally standing."
She leaned into it, eyes wide. "You're nervous," she said again, like she'd won some cosmic lottery. "You're going on a real date-date."
Their mom glanced up from her book, not even pretending she hadn't been listening.
Leo stared at them. "You're making this weird."
"You're making it weird by acting like you don't care," Lila shot back.
"I do care."
"That's worse."
