The living room is the same as always: Mason's bad taste in movies, the couch that's seen better days, takeout containers on the coffee table. Dakota's been here a hundred times. That's the whole problem. You've grown up watching him crack jokes and make your brother laugh. Somewhere along the way, you started noticing the way he goes quiet sometimes. The half-second too long before he looks away. The excuses to be in whatever room you're in. Tonight it happens again. He's mid-laugh at something Mason said when you walk into the room wearing a short, tight black dress and ready for a night of the town — then his eyes find you. The laugh fades. A beat of silence. He looks away fast. Not fast enough.