I grin at the text that is obviously from Noah, shouting my goodbyes to everyone as I head for the elevator.

Usually I linger around the office after hours, chatting and loitering until Chelsea offers to give me a lift home. Work tends to be the only place where I socially interact with other human beings who aren't Chelsea, so I consider it good for my mental health. Though now I live with Matt and Noah I'm sure I'll no longer have that issue.

Noah in the no-parking zone again and it's pitch black outside now. I pull the sleeves of my cardigan over my body and rush around his car, sliding into the leather seat.

It's heated, already warm. The air is blasting too, so I sink into the headrest and sigh.

It takes a few seconds for me to realise he's looking at me.

I turn to him dramatically, raising an eyebrow.

"Long day at the office?" His voice is deep and gruff. There's a swipe of oil across his cheek and my eyes drop to the dark blue overalls covering his body, all dirty and covered in grime.

He's obviously come straight from work.

"A lot of meetings."

He pulls out of the space in front of my office building and we drive quietly towards the roundabout at the end of the road.

"How was your day?" I ask, half-closing my eyes again. The heat is still blowing against my face.

There's a short pause before he answers, he sounds confused when does.

"It was good. I fixed cars."

I snort. Obviously he'd fixed cars.

"A man of many words," I joke. "Do you think Matt would mind if one of my friends came over one day this week? Or... would you mind?"

He chuckles, deep and vibrating through the car.

"I doubt he would mind. Neither would I."

We fall into a silence that I'm not sure is completely comfortable, because I keep fidgeting in his seat and he turns the music up a few paces louder.

When we get into the house, Matt is nowhere to be seen and Noah disappears in his room so I take it upon myself to raid their cupboards and scrounge whatever I can to make us all a meal.

Low and behold, when I open the fridge it's filled with nothing but beer, protein yogurts and butter that has seen better days.

I huff and pull up directions to the nearest shop on my phone. A ten minute walk - fine. Worth it for a meal that includes fresh ingredients.

Noah's hoodie is still slung over the back of the sofa from yesterday and I pull it over my head again gently, switching out my heels for trainers and pulling my hair into a bun on top of my head.

Maybe I shouldn't, I think briefly. Noah is sweet though, he wouldn't mind.

(Matt might.)

I gently shut the door behind myself and put one of my earphones in as I slink into the night. Google maps tells me where and when to turn so I sing softly along with the music flowing between the instructions.

The shop is at the far end of a long car park that isn't lit up. I walk across it quickly and am in and out in no time, my arms stacked with bags of groceries on each side.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, but with full hands I wobble back through the dark car park and down the street towards the house.

My head sways with the gentle music.

Matt's street comes into view quickly, seemingly this walk faster than the walk there, and I'm happy to fall through the door once more. I close it behind myself and step into the living room.

Matt and Noah are sat on the sofa, playing a video game.

"I texted you," Matt says without looking up. "Where were you?"

"You had no food in."

He pauses the game, both he and Noah turning to look at me in sync. I watch as Noah recognises the hoodie once more, but again says nothing about it. Good. I enjoy the smell of it.

My brother either doesn't notice the hoodie or doesn't care. Win-win for me.

"What?"

Matt's eyes narrow.

"You walked to the shop and back by yourself in the dark?"

"Oh for the love of God, Matt," I groan. "I don't remember you being that protective."

He squints at me and then turns in a huff of anger, pressing play on the game. Noah looks me up and down, watching as I take my hair out of its bun.

I lift the bags of groceries, shrugging. At least we have food now.

"Next time, ask me to drive you."

"I can't keep-"

"I like driving, Madelaine."

It's the first time he's cut me off, and for a moment I'm a little shell-shocked at the interruption. He continues to stare me down.

His cheekbones are prominent. I want to run a finger along his jaw to the tip of his slightly pointed chin full of stubble. But I won't. Because my brother has apparently become a stereotypical overprotective jerk who's forgotten that I've been living by myself since I was eighteen.

"Alright, jeez," I break. "You're my personal taxi, I get it."

He turns around and they continue to play the game without chatting.

I put the groceries away, pottering and working out where everything goes as I continue singing along with my music quietly.

Stupid overprotective jerks. Not letting me walk on my own for twenty minutes at six in the evening. And yet here I am, about to cook for them.

I can't be too mad though. Because Matt's letting me live here and Noah's driving me around everywhere - at least they're adapting to living with me quickly. More than adapting if I'm honest; they're incredibly accommodating.

I stir fry some chicken, chorizo and veg in a wok I find tucked into the back of a cupboard full of dust. I'm like a housewife really. Cooking for the family.

If Noah and I were married, this would be our house, and Matt would've visited us for the evening to catch up. They'd be in the living room shouting at a game they're losing,and Matt's wife and I would be in here making them cocktails and cooking up a Sunday roast.

My eyes widen. I look guiltily over to the couch whilst biting my lower lip.

I'm delusional.

Apparently I'm just so incredibly relationship-starved that I've now begun putting together fake scenarios to appease my mind.

I need a boyfriend, I think, looking back at my stir fry.