“You know, I have to say… I’ve outdone myself,” Zora said, beaming with her hands on her hips as she stared at him.

  Tariq looked down at himself. She’d chosen a gray sweater and black sweatpants—nothing unusual, really. Lifting his gaze back to her, he pursed his lips. “You—”

  A knock cut him off.

  “Tariq? Is that Zora in there?” his mom’s voice called from the other side of the door. Over the years, Zora showing up unannounced had become… normal.

  “Yeah,” Tariq answered.

  Zora chuckled. “Hi, Miss Mathis!” she called, walking past him and pulling the door open.

  His mom stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. Her dark skin contrasted sharply against the white hallway walls. She wore green leggings and a white shirt, her long locs falling down either side of her face as she looked between them.

  “Zora picked your clothes?” she asked, amused.

  Tariq nodded. “She apparently wants us to match.”

  Zora nodded proudly. “It’s not like it’s anything different from what he wears anyway.”

  His mom laughed. “That’s true!” She waved them both forward. “Come on, breakfast is almost ready.”

  She disappeared down the hall, and Zora flashed Tariq a look before following her. Sighing, he pulled on a pair of socks and headed downstairs after them.

  The kitchen was large and open, the smell of toast and overnight oats filling the air.

  “Good morning, son! You’re up early!” his dad said with a chuckle.

  For as long as Tariq could remember, his dad sat in the same seat every morning, dressed the same way. His lighter skin was closer to Zora’s tone, his black hair thinning, thick glasses perched on his face. Red pajama pants and a white t-shirt were a household staple—just like his extra-black coffee.

  “It’s not like I want to be,” Tariq muttered, dropping into the chair beside him. Zora sat across from them.

  “You work today, Ma?” Tariq asked as she set a plate in front of him with oats and toast.

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  “Yep. Last day,” she said as she placed a plate in front of his dad. “After thirty years of nursing, I’m calling it quits.”

  “Wow…” Zora breathed.

  Tariq’s mom had spent ten of those years as Chief Nursing Officer. During that time, his father retired as a Sergeant Major in the Marine Reserves, leaving both the military and law enforcement at the same time. Power couple didn’t begin to cover it.

  As Tariq started eating, he saw Zora reach toward his plate.

  “No ma’am,” his mother snapped. “That’s Tariq’s breakfast.”

  Zora leaned back, pouting.

  “Luckily for you, I’ve got a Chobani yogurt and granola right here,” his mom added, setting them in front of Zora.

  Zora beamed.

  Tariq glanced at the stove clock. 6:45. Good enough.

  He finished eating, carried his plate to the sink, and headed for the front door.

  “Hey!” Zora called.

  He heard her scarf down the rest of her food as he slipped on his shoes and grabbed his backpack.

  “Have a good day, both of you!” his mom called. “And Zora—I’ll be letting your mother know about you showing up unannounced again!”

  As Tariq opened the door, Zora bumped into his back. He shook his head and stepped into the crisp morning air.

  “Oof… it’s cold,” Zora said as he locked the door.

  “You didn’t check the weather,” Tariq said, already knowing the answer.

  She shivered dramatically. “Maybe… no... you could get me a jacket?”

  He leaned down, smiling. “No.”

  Her face fell as he walked past her, down the yard toward the sidewalk. “Come on! We don’t have all day!”

  She screamed in frustration—music to his ears—but followed him anyway as they headed toward Montana State University.

  “Ugh, finally,” Zora chattered once they reached campus. “I’m freezing.”

  Tariq looked at her. Like him, Zora usually ran hot. She’d endured far worse weather wearing far less.

  “Zora!” someone called.

  A small group waved at them.

  “Oh! Gotta go!” she chirped, the cold suddenly forgotten. She darted off, waving back at Tariq, who returned a small smile.

  Social butterfly. Antisocial caterpillar.

  Tariq turned toward the physics building. He hadn’t checked his full schedule, but he knew the place well enough. Room 1415B wasn’t hard to find.

  Inside, the fluorescent lights lit up old tan hallways. The building was dated, but it felt like home.

  As he climbed the stairs, he remembered his first days here as a sophomore. Now he was in his master’s program.

  A tap landed on his shoulder.

  “G’morning, Tariq.”

  Jennifer smiled at him. She was one of the few people he’d actually talked to here. During a group project years ago, she’d thought he was tall and intimidating—until Zora dramatically burst in one afternoon and exasperated him .

  “How are you, Jenny?” he asked as they climbed together.

  “Good. Zora not glued to your side today?”

  “She was. You know how she is—always moving.”

  Jennifer was undeniably attractive: blonde hair, blue eyes, freckles across her nose. Plenty of people noticed. Tariq didn’t. Between school and everything else, relationships just weren’t on the table—and he and Zora had already talked that topic to death.

  “Well, good luck,” Jennifer said, turning down a hallway. “See you around.”

  Tariq waved and headed the opposite way. Through the classroom window, he saw it was mostly empty. His phone read 7:15.

  Fifteen minutes.

  After a moment, he decided to go in anyway. Opening the door, he stepped inside, hoping—briefly—that no one would try to talk to him.