“You’re not mad at me, though. I’m your favorite, right, baby?” he asks, running his nose up the side of her neck. “No, Quinn is.” She deadpans, and I stifle a giggle at my brother’s dejected face. “But I guess you’re okay too.” As she bops his nose, Seb’s frown deepens. Indie glances over at me, a rare smile tugging at her lips. That’s my best friend. Saweetie & Doja Cat’s “Best Friend” blares in my head.
