The only thing keeping from full panic mode was the fact that our apartnt sat in the kind of neighborhood where people minded their business because asking questions got you hurt. No paparazzi would risk getting their cara stolen for a photo of so random guy’s front door.
Small rcies.
"Fine," I said. "How do we handle this before it gets worse?"
Cassidy’s eyes lit up. "So you agree we need better photos—"
"No. I agree we need a plan that doesn’t involve you posing for Instagram like we’re dating."
"But—"
A rustling sound ca from the corner of the library. The reading nook by the windows, specifically. The massive leather beanbag chair shifted, and wine-red hair appeared over the top edge.
Sabrina sat up. Stretched. Yawned like she’d just woken from hibernation instead of a casual library nap.
She’d been there the entire ti.
My brain did the math. We’d been arguing for at least seven minutes. She’d heard everything. The photo. The dia circus. Cassidy’s terrible photoshoot idea. My growing panic about Iris and our address becoming public knowledge.
"Sabrina," Cassidy said flatly. "How long have you been there?"
"Since lunch."
"Were you awake?"
"Sotis."
Cassidy’s eye twitched. "And you didn’t think to ntion you were listening to a private conversation?"
"This is the library." Sabrina stood. Her uniform skirt was wrinkled from sleep. Her tie hung loose. She crossed the room toward us with that ghost-walk she did where you didn’t hear her coming until she’d already arrived. "Nothing here is private."
She reached our table. Looked at the photo on Cassidy’s phone screen. Studied it for approximately two seconds.
"The angle is fine. Your chin looks normal. The problem is context."
Cassidy blinked. "What?"
"You’re standing close. Looking at each other. The body language reads as intimate regardless of what you were actually discussing." Sabrina’s purple eyes shifted to . "Am I wrong?"
"No," I admitted. "That’s exactly the problem."
"Then the solution is simple." She walked around the table. Stood directly behind my chair. "Stop worrying about photos that already exist. Control what happens next instead."
Her hands landed on my shoulders.
I froze.
Cassidy’s eyes went very wide.
Sabrina leaned forward. Her chin ca to rest on top of my head. Her arms slid down and wrapped around my chest from behind. Not aggressive. Not performative. Just... there. Like she was draping herself over furniture.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Calming you down." Her voice was quiet. Right above my ear. "You’re tense. I can feel your heart."
She could feel my—
My brain short-circuited. Rebooted in safe mode. Gave up entirely.
"Sabrina," Cassidy said slowly. "Get off him."
"No."
"That’s not appropriate."
"Neither is betting him in pet play. Yet here we are."
Cassidy’s face went nuclear red. "That’s DIFFERENT. That’s a motivational structure based on ga theory and—"
"And this is emotional support." Sabrina’s arms tightened slightly. "He’s stressed. Mother wants him doing dia training tomorrow. Photographers are following him around the city. His little sister might get exposed by gossip outlets." She paused. "I’m helping."
"By using him as a body pillow?"
"Yes."
The logic was completely insane. The physical contact was definitely crossing about forty professional boundaries. My employee handbook, which didn’t actually exist, was probably spontaneously combusting sowhere in the universe.
But.
My heart rate was actually slowing down. The panic that had been building since I’d seen that white van was receding. Not gone. Just... manageable.
Troubleso, my brain supplied weakly.
"See?" Sabrina said. "His breathing changed. This is working."
Cassidy stared at us. Her jaw had actually dropped. "You can’t just... just DECIDE to drape yourself all over people because they’re stressed."
"Why not?"
"Because it’s weird!"
"You tackle-hugged him when you got a ninety on your quiz."
"THAT WAS DIFFERENT."
"How?"
Cassidy opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Made a strangled sound.
I probably should have moved. Should have extracted myself from Sabrina’s arms and restored so sense of professional distance before this got worse.
Instead I just sat there. Let it happen. Because honestly?
This was the first ti all day soone had touched without wanting sothing. Harlow’s hugs ca with requests. Vivienne’s collar adjustnts ca with instructions. Cassidy’s physical contact ca with competition and barely suppressed hostility.
Sabrina was just... here. Existing. Making the world slightly less terrible through proximity alone.
My internal monologue realized I was having feelings and imdiately tried to delete itself from existence.
"You’re getting too comfortable," Cassidy muttered. She crossed her arms. Looked away. "This is unprofessional."
"You’re the one who made him agree to wear rabbit ears."
"THAT’S A BET. A MOTIVATIONAL STRUCTURE. IT’S COMPLETELY DIFFERENT."
"Is it?"
Sabrina shifted her weight. I felt her move. Felt the way she was leaning more of herself against my back now, like I was a very expensive chair she’d decided to claim.
Then she said, "I’m tired."
Oh no.
"Want to sit down?" Cassidy asked.
"I am sitting."
"You’re STANDING."
"Technically I’m leaning."
"Sabrina—"
"I want to sit on his lap."
The library went so quiet I could hear my own pulse in my ears.
Cassidy recovered first. "No. Absolutely not. That’s... no. We talked about boundaries. Rember boundaries? The thing Vivienne spent twenty minutes explaining to us?"
"I rember." Sabrina’s chin left the top of my head. She straightened up but her arms stayed wrapped around my chest. "Which is why I’m using one of my tickets."
My stomach dropped into my shoes.
The tickets. The four unlimited favors I owed because I’d lost the Quadruplet Guessing Ga. The ones that could be redeed at any ti for anything.
Cassidy’s face cycled through approximately twelve different emotions in three seconds. Horror. Disbelief. Anger. Sothing that looked suspiciously like jealousy.
"You’re using a TICKET? For THAT?"
"Yes."
"That’s the stupidest waste of a ticket I’ve ever heard. You could ask him for literally ANYTHING and you’re wasting it on sitting in his lap like a cat?"
Sabrina considered this. "I like sitting. I like him. This seems like good resource allocation to ."
"That’s not—" Cassidy made another strangled sound. Turned to . "Tell her no."
"I can’t."
"Why not?"
"Because she’s using a ticket." I closed my eyes. Accepted my fate. "The rules were clear. No questions asked. No refusals allowed."
"This is bullshit."
"I didn’t write the rules."
"HARLOW wrote the rules. Harlow who thinks everything should be friendship and rainbows and—" Cassidy stopped. Stared at Sabrina. "Wait. Did you plan this? The whole ga. Did you WANT to win tickets specifically so you could pull this kind of move?"
Sabrina’s expression gave away nothing. "Perhaps."
"PERHAPS?"
"Or maybe I just think he’s comfortable." She finally released my chest. Walked around the chair. Stood in front of with her arms crossed. "May I?"
The question was polite. Professional, even. Like she was asking to borrow a pencil instead of requesting to sit on her employee’s lap in full view of her sister.
"Do I actually have a choice here?"
"No."
"Then why ask?"
"Because manners matter." She moved closer. "Even when using leverage."
This was happening. This was actually happening. My life had beco so kind of light novel where the quiet mysterious girl decides to weaponize physical contact against her competitive sister.
I should have said no anyway. Should have found so loophole in the ticket system. Should have—
Sabrina sat down sideways across my lap. Arranged herself like she’d done this a thousand tis. One arm went around my shoulders for balance. Her other hand held her book, which she’d apparently retrieved from sowhere when I wasn’t looking.
She opened to a bookmarked page. Started reading.
Just. Reading.
Like this was completely normal.
Cassidy stood there with her mouth open. "I hate both of you."
"You don’t hate ," I said. "You need to pass your test on Friday."
"I hate you RIGHT NOW."
"That’s fair."
Sabrina turned a page. "If it helps, you can use one of your tickets on sothing equivalently petty."
"I’M SAVING MY TICKETS FOR IMPORTANT THINGS."
"This is important to ."
The way Sabrina said it, completely flat and emotionless, sohow made it worse. Made it sound more real than if she’d been dramatic about it.
Cassidy stared at her sister. At . At the situation we’d created through poor life choices and elaborate sister gas.
"Fine," she said finally. "FINE. Sit on him. Use him as furniture. See if I care."
But her voice had gone tight. Sharp.
She cared.
I could tell she cared because she grabbed her textbook so hard the pages crumpled. Because her ears had gone pink. Because she was determinedly NOT looking at either of us.
"We should study," Cassidy said. "Since that’s why you’re here. To TUTOR . Not to be a chair for my sister."
"Multitasking," Sabrina murmured without looking up from her book.
I sighed. Pulled my materials closer across the table. "Show what you worked on last night."
Cassidy shoved papers at . Color-coded graph paper filled with ticulous steps. Twenty practice problems. Nineteen solved correctly.
I stared.
"You did all of these?"
"So?"
"Cassidy. This is..." I checked the tistamp on the photos she’d sent docunting her work. "You worked for three hours straight?"
"I was bored."
"You STUDIED for three hours because you were BORED?"
Her ears went pink again. "Shut up. Are we doing this or what?"
Sabrina, still sitting on my lap, was smiling into her book. I could feel it. The way her shoulders had relaxed. The quiet satisfaction radiating off her like heat.
She’d planned this. Knew Cassidy would get flustered. Knew I couldn’t refuse. Knew she’d get exactly what she wanted while simultaneously causing maximum chaos.
Troubleso didn’t even begin to cover it.
"Alright," I said. "Let’s start with problem twenty. You got it wrong. Walk through what happened."
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