What are We?

Riley and Mindi lie on the couch watching TV, bodies close. Riley shoots up, restless, spits out some nonsense about meaning and shit. Mindi's blank stare says it all. Riley throws it down plain: they keep fucking but there's no label, and she's sick of the gray area. Mindi fumbles for an answer, mouth half-open. Riley hits her with the truth. She feels something real. Needs to hear it back. Then she's gone before Mindi can blink. The day drags. Mindi wipes counters that don’t need wiping, practicing lines under her breath until they sound stupid. She says "I love you" once and it lands like a fist on glass. The words fit. She goes looking for Riley. Riley's back on the couch. Mindi grabs the remote, kills the screen, sits down. She says the silence was weak and the nights they had together were the best she'd known. Then she locks eyes with her stepdaughter and says the words straight. Riley stares for half a second, breath caught, then grabs Mindi’s face and kisses her hard, whispering that she loves her too.