Page 13 of The Snowball Effect

She’d known it would be an uphill battle to get Emma to like her – at least, to stopdislikingher – but, “Nothing I do works, Sutton.Nothing. And I really am trying.”

She stepped back so Sutton could fully see her, holding up her hand as she counted on her fingers. “I tried to help her with her boxes when she moved in. But we had a, uh, miscommunication. And the box fell. And some stuff broke.” She winced, holding up a second finger. “Every time I try to make casual conversation, just asking about her day or telling her about mine, she gives the shortest answers and goes to her room.” She held up a third finger. “This morning, I was about toget in the shower – like,literally. Usually, I’ve been waiting until after she’s left for the day, which I thought she already had. So, I was naked. I’d just put my hair up. And when she knocked and asked to use the bathroom, I put on a towel and let her!”

Emma had hardly even spared her a glance.

“Even then, she barely eventhankedme.”

Not that Regan needed Emma to kiss her ass in gratitude or anything, but a simple acknowledgment without Regan needing to ask for it would have been nice! Especially because, “I highly doubt she would have done the same thing for me had I asked her.”

She stared challengingly at Sutton, daring her to disagree. They both knew it was the truth.

For her credit, Sutton didn’t deny it. Instead, she let out a slow, deep breath and reached up to rub her fingers over her eyes.

“So, what do I do?” Regan beseeched.

For a few seconds, Sutton was quiet. But, even in this blurred video, Regan could recognize her thinking face.

“First,” Sutton started slowly, “You should approach this knowing that you two may never be… friends.”

Regan stared at Sutton in disbelief. “What a profound psychological insight. And very encouraging.”

“Thank you. Secondly.” Sutton rolled her lips as if searching forhowto say her thoughts. “Look, you operate – on an average day – at least at a seven out of ten level of energy.” She lifted her hand up next to her forehead. “Emma operates at a three.” She lowered her hand to just under her chin. “She’s very muted, very level. Even when she’s emotional, her emotions are–”

“Level,” Regan cut in, thoughtfully drawing out the word.

“Yes. Therefore, when you show up, in Emma’s face, at aseven– even at six in the morning or after a long day of work– Emma will automatically want to, um… get away.” Sutton winced. “I couldn’t think of a more delicate way to say that.”

Regan waved away the apology. “It’s fine, I get it.” She tapped her index finger against her lips in contemplation. “So, what you’re saying is that I need to meet Emma where she’s at. Vibe on her wavelength.”

Sutton snapped her fingers triumphantly. “Yes! Exactly that. Start there.”

Regan was pretty fucking pleased with herself as she heard Emma’s key scrape in the lock of their apartment later that night.

She’d just finished plating her home-cooked dinner that she’d been working on for the last hour and a half.Twoplates. Timing couldn’t have been better. And, if she was being entirely honest, it looked objectively delicious.

Rather than do what shewanted, and rush to the kitchen doorway to announce her culinary triumphs, she drew in a long, deep breath through her nose. And simply stood next to the table, waiting for Emma to walk by the doorway.

She smiled brightly as Emma slowed to a stop, scanning her eyes over the kitchen before landing on Regan. “Hey!” She cleared her throat, reminding herselflevelthree. “How was your day?”

Ignoring her question, Emma’s gaze dipped to the kitchen table and landed on the dishes there. “Are you expecting company?” She reached up and pointed to the large calendar she’d put up on the side of the fridge when she’d moved in. “If you put your schedule up on there as I’d asked, then I wouldhave made myself scarce when you’re going to have people over. It’s kind of the point of the shared calendar system.”

Regan darted her eyes over to the calendar in question, noting Emma’s small, neat handwriting on it that listed her work schedule. “Ah. Right. I keep meaning to do that.”

And shedid. Only then she’d forget.

Either way, she was on a mission and determined not to get distracted. Regan shook her head. “Either way – no. I’m not expecting anyone to come over. I had the day off and went to the grocery store by myself, and while I was there, I thought… why don’t I make us dinner tonight?”

“With all of the pans in the cabinets, I see,” Emma commented, sliding her gaze beyond Regan into their kitchen.

Where, admittedly, Regan’s wreckage was on display. “The small size of the kitchen makes it look worse than it is,” she promised. “I’ll clean it up after we eat; it’ll be fine.”

After all, Regan had lived here for seven years – cleaning up after her cooking messes hardly took long at all.

Emma dubiously nodded, looking back at Regan.

Who did her best not to bounce up onto her tiptoes from the weight of the uncertainty of the unspoken dinner invitation. “I remember you telling Sutton how much you love Chinese food one night but never order it. Tonight, I made General Tso’s chicken!”

She gestured to their plates, feeling very victorious. Especially when Emma’s eyes lingered on their food – after living with Emma for nearly a month, Regan knew very well that Emma often came home after six or seven in the evening without having had time to eat anything since lunch.

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