Upstairs, the music was stupidly loud—loud enough to shake the damn walls, loud enough to be heard in every corner of the house.

Jesse’s room was a mess, but that was pretty standard. Clothes—mostly crumpled hoodies and band tees—were scattered across the floor, mixed in with empty soda cans and half-eaten bags of chips. Posters of rock bands and random graffiti-style doodles covered the walls, and his desk? Buried under a chaotic pile of old notebooks, tangled earphones, and who-knows-what-else. The whole place smelled like a mix of cheap cologne, chips, and teenage rebellion.

But neither of the two idiots currently occupying the room seemed to care.

Tom was sprawled out on Jesse’s bed, lazily shoving chips into his mouth with one hand while scrolling through his phone with the other. Every now and then, he let out a stupid, stoned little giggle at whatever meme he was looking at. He was definitely a little out of it—too much to even notice that Jesse had disappeared at some point. Not that it mattered. The bass was hitting just right, and Tom was comfortably lost in his own little world.

That is, until the door swung open.

Tom barely reacted at first, blinking up from his phone like a deer caught in headlights. Standing in the doorway was Jesse’s sibling, looking pissed—probably about the music, maybe about the mess, or maybe just about everything in general.

Tom grinned, completely unbothered.

“Dude, ever heard of knocking?” he drawled, licking chip dust off his fingers. “What if me and Jesse were busy, huh?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, then let out a dumb little laugh, reaching for another handful of chips like he hadn’t just said something completely ridiculous.