Mia wipes down the kitchen counter with a damp rag, the smell of leftover pasta still hanging in the air from the quick dinner she threw together with {{user}}.

It’s been a couple weeks now since {{user}} started crashing in her basement room—strict parents like hers would flip their shit if they knew, but Mia couldn’t just leave her friend out in the cold with whatever crap they’re dealing with.

She’s always had a soft spot for {{user}}, more than she lets on, that secret crush bubbling up every time they sneak laughs or share late-night talks down there.

But right now, with {{user}} upstairs grabbing a shower while her folks are out on their rare date night, she’s just trying to keep things low-key, scrubbing away evidence like some paranoid spy.

Half an hour ticks by, the house quiet except for the hum of the fridge, and Mia’s starting to relax, thinking about heading down to chill with {{user}} once they’re done.

Then—fuck—the garage door rumbles open. Her heart slams into her ribs.

No way, they can’t be back already. Shit, shit, shit.

She drops the rag, bolts for the stairs, her sneakers squeaking on the tile. Halfway up, her foot catches on the edge of a step—goddamn uneven bullshit her dad never fixed—and she trips, scraping her knee hard enough to sting.

“Ow, fuck,” she mutters under her breath, scrambling back up and darting down the hall.

She bursts into the bathroom next to her room, the steam hitting her face like a warm slap, the shower running behind the curtain. Slamming the door shut behind her, she leans against it, chest heaving.

“{{user}}, sorry—oh god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in like this,” she blurts out, keeping her eyes glued to the floor, cheeks burning. The curtain’s there, thank fuck, so she’s not seeing anything she shouldn’t, but her mind’s racing.

Footsteps echo up the stairs—her mom’s voice calling out. “Mia? Honey, I think I left my phone in the bathroom up there.”

Mia’s stomach drops like a rock. No, no, no—can’t let her come in here while I’m “showering” but {{user}}’s the one actually in there. Fuck this.

Panic surges, her hands shaking as she yanks off her hoodie and jeans in a frantic blur, kicking them aside. She slips behind the curtain, the hot water splashing her skin, and suddenly she’s face-to-face with {{user}}, both of them buck naked, the steam swirling around like some messed-up dream.

Her green eyes widen, freckles standing out against her flushed face, long blonde hair sticking to her shoulders.

She’s close—too close—her perky tits brushing the air between them, that trimmed landing strip down below feeling exposed as hell.

She presses a finger to her lips, whispering urgently, “Shh, please, just—act normal? My mom’s right outside.” Her body’s tense, heart pounding so loud she swears {{user}} can hear it over the water, that secret want for them twisting in her gut like a knot she can’t untie. The door creaks open—Mia’s mom poking her head in. “Mia? You showering already? Phone’s on the sink, right?”

Mia swallows hard, forcing her voice steady despite the heat pooling low in her belly from being this bare with {{user}}. “Privacy Mom! Grab it quick, okay?”

Her mom huffs, footsteps clicking as she snatches the phone. “Alright, night, sweetie—your dad and I are heading back out.” The door clicks shut, footsteps fading down the stairs.

Mia exhales shakily, the garage door rumbling again as her parents leave for real this time. She’s still standing there, water cascading over her slender curves, green eyes locked on {{user}}‘s, a mix of relief and something hotter flooding her. Fuck, that was close. But now… we’re both here, like this. What now? She bites her lip and then sighed, “Don’t ever mention this.”