---
On the other side of the world, I knew Sandy was waiting for me-probably tapping her foot against the ground, rolling her eyes every five minutes, and threatening the universe for making me take so long. She always hated waiting, and today wasn't any different.
The flight felt like an entire lifetime. I'd slept, woken up, watched a movie, played a game, then stared at the little blinking screen that never moved fast enough. I just wanted it to end.
And finally, it did.
The moment I stepped outside the airport doors, I didn't even have time to breathe before someone slammed into me. Arms wrapped around me so tightly it knocked the air out of my lungs. Laughter-loud, chaotic, and familiar-exploded against my ear.
"And the lost was found!" Sandy's voice practically rang in my head. "What took you so long? I've been waiting here for centuries!"
Her arms tightened, her face buried against my shoulder.
"It wasn't that long," I muttered, trying to laugh, though I could barely breathe.
"Nope. Not letting go," she said, locking her grip even tighter.
I tried to push her off, but she held on like a vice.
"Sandy," I warned.
"Nope," she repeated stubbornly.
A long, exasperated sigh escaped me.
"You know I hate hugs. Come on, you'll have enough time to choke me later. I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere."
That did it. She let go, but not without rolling her eyes dramatically. She was the only person I'd ever allow that close. Not even my parents hugged me. The last hug I'd shared with my mom at the airport felt foreign-almost wrong. I had just stood there frozen, my arms hanging uselessly. That was me. Always detached. Always guarded.
"You better not disappear again," Sandy said sharply, dragging me back to reality.
I bent down to grab my bags, but before my fingers could even touch the handles, Sandy snatched them up-just like she always did whenever she wanted to remind me she was "stronger" than me. Which, of course, wasn't true. She was about two inches shorter, but that never stopped her from trying to prove a point.
Her long, dark hair flowed down her back in soft waves, catching the light as she moved. Her smooth caramel skin seemed to glow under the afternoon sun, making her stand out even more. Today, she'd gone all out. Her short white skirt and black top clung to her curves like a second skin, every line of her body outlined with intention. She'd paired the outfit with black sneakers and a silver chain that rested just above her collarbone, gleaming like it belonged there.
"Let me order a cab so-"
"No need. I drove here. I'll be your chauffeur," she declared with that infuriating grin.
"You what?" I stared at her.
"I drive now. Surprised?"
My brain froze. Sandy? Driving? And not telling me? Impossible.
"You kept that from me?"
She smirked, clearly enjoying herself.
"Guess I can keep secrets too."
That stung more than I expected. Nothing ever happened in her life without me knowing. That was our unspoken rule.
---
We drove in silence for a while-well, mostly silence. She kept humming loudly to some pop song I didn't know.
"We need to eat something," she finally said. "I've been here an hour. An hour, Jolls."
"An hour?" I snapped my head toward her.
"I missed you. Sue me."
I sighed. I couldn't even be mad at her for that.
Minutes later, we stopped at a place called Jones's Restaurant. She practically dragged me inside.
"You'll love it," she said confidently.
We sat down, ordered, and waited. I went for a chocolate cake and a latte. She-predictably-picked cinnamon rolls.
"Seriously, cinnamon rolls?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Seriously, chocolate cake?" she shot back.
Before I could reply, the waiter brought our order. Sandy snorted at the way the waitress smiled at me.
"What?" I demanded.
"Nothing," she said, but her laugh said otherwise.
We ate quietly. But quiet with Sandy was never truly quiet. Her leg bounced impatiently, her eyes flickered around, then back to me.
"Eat fast. We've got admission to do," I reminded her.
"Yeah, yeah. Bossy as always," she muttered.
She asked about my mom. I cut her off. She didn't push. She knew where the line was.
---
"Whoa," she whispered as soon as we arrived. "This school is... wow. Big. Expensive. And hot guys everywhere."
I smacked her arm as she was smiling at the boys who had just passed us.
"You've got a boyfriend," I reminded her.
"Mmmh. You're no fun," she muttered, then grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the wrong direction.
"This way, genius," I said, dragging her back.
"Oh."
She laughed awkwardly. But I could see the curiosity in her eyes. She was a hurricane-always loud, always moving. I'd always been the calm one.
The admission process took about forty minutes. She waited outside, tapping her foot like a child waiting for candy.
"You're not showing me around?" she asked the second I came out.
"Not today. I'm tired."
"But you clearly know where everything is."
"Sandy," I warned.
She threw her hands in the air and sighed dramatically.
"Fine. Whatever. Another time then."
Her mood shifted fast. That was Sandy-sunshine one second, thunderstorm the next.
---
"Do you know Hotel Muxim?" I asked in the car.
"Yeah. Why?"
"That's where I'm staying."
The silence that followed was heavier than the flight itself.
"You're not staying with me?" she asked, voice low but sharp. "You know my mom's waiting. She loves you. I told her we'd be together."
"I just... need my own space," I said flatly.
Her jaw tightened. She turned her eyes to the road.
"Fine."
I hated how that single word burned more than it should have.
The rest of the ride was dead quiet. No music. No humming. Just two old friends with too much unspoken between them.
---
The receptionist handed me my room key with a polite smile.
"Room 43. Welcome to Hotel Muxim."
We rode the elevator. She didn't say a word.
The moment we entered the room, her phone rang.
"Hello, Mum. Yeah. I'll be there," she said shortly, then ended the call.
"I have to babysit Sam," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
"Okay," I said quietly.
"I'll pick you up tomorrow and show you around. Don't disappear again."
Her voice cracked just slightly at the end. She hated sounding vulnerable. She hugged me quickly-not soft, not gentle. Just firm. Then she was gone.
The door clicked shut, and the silence that followed felt louder than anything else.
---