Draft 1
She swirls the last of her drink. “You’re good at this,” she says instead, not quite looking at me.
“At what?”
“This.” She gestures vaguely toward the house. “Blending in.”
“I don’t know. I think I’m just quiet enough people assume I belong to someone else.”
She laughs, light and amused. “You say that like it’s a strategy.”
“It is.”
She smiles, but there’s so…