Just a Matter of Time

Elisha

As we stepped out of the car, Amara yawned for what felt like the tenth time, rubbing her stomach like she'd just finished a three-course meal. I could still see a tiny bit of chocolate at the corner of her mouth, evidence of how she had basically demolished our banana split. I barely got three bites in before she took over, shoveling spoonfuls of ice cream into her mouth like she hadn't eaten in days.

"You know," I said as we walked toward the elevator in our apartment building, "you could've at least left me a little more. I'm the one who drove us there, after all."

Amara shot me a sidelong glance, half a smirk playing on her lips. "What can I say? You snooze, you lose. Besides, I needed the sugar boost to deal with James tonight."

"Right, because everyone knows the best way to handle sibling rivalry is with a sugar coma," I teased.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Hey, at least I don't see any cavities yet, Doc."

I laughed as the elevator doors opened, and we stepped inside. "Not yet, but give it time."

She poked me in the ribs with her elbow. "You never cannot have the last work."

"Nope," I shot back, rubbing my side dramatically.

The banter felt easy, natural. It reminded me of the countless times we'd done this as kids, arguing over the last piece of pizza or whose turn it was to pick the movie. It was moments like these that made me forget all the grown-up stuff weighing us down—her engagement, my career. Right now, it was just us, like always.

"So, what floor?" I asked, as if I didn't know. I had to admit, I was a bit distracted thinking about how she'd been dodging questions all night.

"Twenty-one," she replied, tapping her fingers against the side of her leg.

I blinked. "Wait, seriously? I'm on twenty-one, too."

Her eyes widened. "You're joking."

"No joke," I said, holding up my hands in mock surrender. "I'm in 2107."

She stared at me like I'd just told her I won the lottery. "2105," she said slowly, her mouth dropping open. "You've got to be kidding me."

The elevator doors opened, and we stepped out into the hallway, still gaping at each other.

"I can't believe this," she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"What? Am I a bad neighbor?" I asked, smirking as I leaned casually against my doorframe.

Amara laughed, though her eyes narrowed playfully as she pretended to give it some thought. "No... but you might be an annoying one," she teased, grinning.

I held up my hands in mock surrender. "Me? Please, that's all you."

She crossed her arms, shooting me a smug look. "I'm a perfect neighbor."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Perfect? Oh, come on. I still remember you chucking things at my window every night just to get my attention."

"I couldn't sleep! And you weren't answering your phone," she shot back, shrugging.

"And living next door to you aren't peaches and creams either," she added, shaking her head.

I raised an eyebrow, giving her a pointed look. "You're acting like I shouldn't be the main one concerned here."

She huffed, trying to feign annoyance but barely holding back a smile. "You shouldn't."

I laughed. "Please, you've been creating chaos my whole life. Every time you're around, I end up hurt or in trouble."

Amara sighed, throwing in a dramatic flair. "That's such an exaggeration. Besides, your body was practically built to handle me."

I grinned, feeling that familiar warmth that always came with our banter. "You're insane."

She raised an eyebrow, challenging. "And what does that make you?"

I shrugged, playing along. "A saint."

We both chuckled, and I saw her start to relax. Even though she wasn't thrilled about our new living situation, I knew this back-and-forth was our comfort zone.

"Alright, goodnight, Elisha," she said with a hint of finality, turning to unlock her door.

"Goodnight, Amara," I replied, watching as she slipped into her apartment, the door clicking softly behind her.

As I turned to go into mine, I couldn't help but smile to myself. Living next to Amara was going to be interesting, no doubt about that. But it felt right. Like the universe had put us exactly where we needed to be, right when we needed it most.

"Here's to neighbors," I muttered to myself, closing my door behind me.