We turned the corner, and there she was.
Alia.
In the kitchen, barefoot in an oversized hoodie, holding a slice of pizza in one hand and a half-eaten chicken wing in the other.
"Alia?!" I shouted, clutching my chest as I slammed into the wall. "What the hell!"
She blinked at us like we were the intruders.
"What?" She shrugged, with tomato sauce smeared across her cheek, crumbs on her chin, and the guiltiest stare I'd ever seen in my life.
Dominic snorted beside me. "You almost gave us a heart attack."
She pouted, blinking dramatically. "Huhh?" she mumbled through a mouthful of cheese. "Why are y'all looking at me like that?"
"We thought someone broke in. I was about to call 911," I gasped, still trying to catch my breath.
She looked offended. "Okay, first of all, I woke up to the smell of pizza. That's on you. You knew what I was capable of. Second, don't yell at me, I'm literally a minor."
Dominic covered his mouth to hide his laugh.
