I reached for the handle, wiped my palms on my thighs, took a breath that did absolutely nothing to calm me, and pulled the door open just enough to peer out.
My mum was standing there in her robe, arms crossed, eyes sharp, nose twitching ever so slightly like she was already clocking everything I didn’t want her to notice.
Her gaze flicked past me into the room, to the bed, to the sheets, to me again, and I felt naked even though I was fully dressed.
“You alright?” she asked, suspicious now, her tone softer but not fooled. “You’re flushed. And you sound out of breath. You sick?”
“No,” I said too fast. “I’m fine. I swear. I just had a really intense dream.”
She stared at me for a long second, and I swear she was about to say something else, something worse, something that would ruin
