Madison dropped me off at Woody's office around noon. She'd been going on about how I had to enter the competition, how this was my shot, how she believed in me and all that. It was kinda sweet... and also kinda annoying.

  "Promise me you'll actually apply this time," she said, parked out front.

  "I will, jeez," I replied, tugging on my hoodie. "You and Woody both act like I don't know how to fill out a form."

  She gave me that older sister look—the one that says she's proud and bossy at the same time. "Just do it. You're too talented to keep hiding."

  I rolled my eyes, but my stomach fluttered a little. I didn't say it, but I was nervous. Six months of writing? People reading my work? Judging it? Still, I nodded and stepped out of the car.

  Inside, Woody's office was warm, filled with books, that cinnamon candle he always had lit, and the soft tapping of keys as he worked on his laptop.

  "Lily!" he grinned when he saw me. "Madison dropped you off?"

  I nodded, slipping into the chair across from him. "Yep. Apparently, she thinks I'm the next Toni Morrison."

  "Not a bad thing to be."

  He scooted his chair beside me and pulled up the competition website.

  "It's all online. You can submit one long story or several shorter ones. Themes change every round. Plenty of time to plan."

  I stared at the screen, heart beating faster than I wanted to admit. Six months. That's a long time to commit. But also... something about it made me excited.

  "Need help with the bio section?" he asked, nudging my arm.

  "Help me not sound like I live in a shoebox and cry about boys?"

  He laughed. "I think that's most writers."

  We filled it out together. After I clicked submit, he leaned back in his chair.

  "Look at you. Official contestant."

  I grinned. "Guess I am."

  "And hey," he said, tone softer, "if you ever need a writing partner, or inspiration... you know where to find me."

  "Thanks," I said, slinging my bag on my shoulder. "But I'm actually meeting someone."

  His expression didn't shift right away. "Someone?"

  I hesitated for half a second. "A date."

  He blinked. "Oh, right," he said, standing up too. "Well... have fun, then."

  There was something about his voice that felt... tight. Off. But maybe I imagined it.

  Payton was already waiting outside the café, leaning against the wall like a movie scene I wasn't cool enough to be in. When he saw me, he smiled that half-grin that always made my chest do weird stuff.

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  "Hey," he said. "You look... really good."

  I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "Thanks. You don't look bad yourself"

  Really Lily, you couldn't compliment his eyes or clothes...ughhh

  We started off kind of awkward, like both of us were trying not to say something dumb. But by the time we finished our overpriced drinks and made fun of the weirdly aggressive jazz music playing overhead, things got better. Natural. Easy.

  We went to the movies after—some horror film that wasn't scary at all, but I still jumped once and accidentally grabbed his arm. And he didn't let go right away.

  After the movie, we just walked. Talked about random stuff—school, music, what we wanted to do after graduation. He told me he wanted to be a vet. I told him about the writing competition, and he was so into it, it was almost embarrassing how supportive he was.

  When we got to my house, he turned to me at the gate.

  "I had fun," he said.

  "Same."

  He leaned in and gave me a hug. A really good one. Like the kind that makes you feel like you're not alone in the world.

  "Text me when you get inside?"

  "Will do."

  I walked inside with the stupidest grin on my face. And, of course, I wasn't even halfway up the stairs when all five of my sisters burst into my room.

  "You're glowing!" Beatrice squealed.

  Camila was already sitting on my bed like she owned the place. "Spill. Now."

  "Wait—how do you all even know I went on a date?"

  They all pointed at Camila.

  "Sorry!" she said, laughing. "I might've mentioned it... enthusiastically."

  I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop smiling. So yeah, I told them everything—the awkward start, the movie, the hug. They ooh'd and ahh'd like I was telling them about royalty.

  Katherine clutched her chest dramatically. "This is so cute I might throw up."

  Beatrice grinned. "If he hurts you, we egg his house."

  "Respectfully," Madison added.

  We were still laughing when Mom called us down for dinner.

  Dinner was a whole thing. Mom had invited Woody again—he was practically a family member at this point. At least she let me invite Camila, so it's nice. He sat next to Dad, chatting easily like he'd always been there. Honestly, it was nice... until it wasn't.

  At first, everyone was hyping Beatrice up about her upcoming photoshoot.

  "Don't let them bleach your brows again," Camila said. "You looked like Voldemort in lip gloss."

  Beatrice rolled her eyes but laughed anyway.

  Then, out of nowhere, Mom turned to me.

  "So, Lily. How's the writing competition planning going?"

  I blinked. "Uh—good?"

  "You already applied, right?" Dad added.

  "Yeah... I did. Today."

  "Tell us about it," Madison said, cutting her chicken. "Six months, right?"

  I nodded, a little surprised they were all actually interested. "Yeah. I can submit stories over time, and there's a final round where some get published. It's a big deal."

  My sisters immediately jumped in.

  "She's gonna win," Beatrice said confidently.

  "Obviously," Camila added. "She made me cry with that story about the girl and her dead cat."

  "Okay, ew," Katherine said. "But yeah, she's amazing."

  I felt myself smiling without meaning to. It felt... good. For once, like I wasn't just background noise in the family chaos.

  "I mean... honestly, Woody helped a lot," I said. "He pushed me to go for it."

  Woody smiled slightly. Just a small curve of his lips. No joke, no witty comment.

  Weird.

  Later, I was alone in the kitchen grabbing cutlery for dessert when I heard footsteps behind me.

  "You went on the date," Woody said.

  I turned, startled. "Yeah. I did."

  He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Doesn't seem like the best time. With school. And the competition."

  "It's just one date, Woody."

  He didn't answer right away. Just watched me. "You know, distractions can get in the way of really great things."

  I narrowed my eyes. "I can handle it."

  "I'm just looking out for you."

  I tilted my head. "I can look out for myself, thank you."

  He didn't respond. I didn't wait for him to.

  Back at the table, I kept thinking about his face. That look in his eyes. It wasn't like him. Not the Woody I knew.

  But I pushed it away.

  My sisters were laughing about Kris' latest argument with her teacher, Dad was reaching for second helpings, and Mom was humming as she served dessert.

  Everything was normal.

  Totally, completely normal.

  Except for the fact that Woody hadn't said another word all dinner.