The first thing Matt noticed wasn’t the sunlight stabbing through the blinds or the dull ache in his skull — it was the warmth pressed against him. For a second he thought he was still dreaming, then he opened his eyes and saw {{user}}, tangled in his sheets, hair a soft mess across his pillow. His chest tightened.

He’d wanted this. God, he’d wanted this for so long, hiding it behind sarcasm, banter, leaving the room before she could read his face. And he’d always caught her looking back, the quick glances when she thought he wouldn’t notice. Last night had been her birthday party, all three brothers celebrating her at midnight; shots, music, her laugh spilling through the house. One look across the room, a touch too long, and everything they’d been holding back finally cracked.

Now the house was quiet except for faint voices downstairs — Chris already making breakfast, Nick teasing about it being “the big day.” Matt lay there, back still tingling with the scratches she’d left, her scent on his skin, and felt a mix of panic and relief. This wasn’t a mistake, not for him. But he’d never planned for the morning after.

He swallowed, watching her sleep, fingers curling against the sheet as if to keep from reaching for her again. “Happy birthday…” he whispered under his breath, voice rough, almost a confession, while his mind raced over what to say when she opened her eyes.