You’re in your room, halfway through changing your shirt, when the door suddenly swings open.

Mattheo steps in without warning, his gaze locking on you instantly. He freezes for a moment, and your heart skips a beat when you realize you’re only in your bra.

“Mattheo!” you exclaim, lunging for the nearest shirt to cover yourself.

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, clearly taking his time. “I didn’t know we were at this stage already,” he teases, leaning casually against the doorframe, utterly unbothered by your flustered state.

You feel your cheeks heat up, but you force yourself to stand tall. “You could knock, you know.”

Mattheo chuckles, a low, teasing sound that makes your stomach twist. “And miss this?” he says, stepping closer, his eyes sweeping over you with a playful intensity. “I’ll remember to knock next time… but honestly? I don’t really mind walking in.”

You roll your eyes, tugging the shirt over your head and trying to regain a semblance of composure, though your pulse is racing.

“Wait a minute, Mattheo,” you warn, trying to sound firm, but your voice betrays a hint of nervousness.

He laughs, the sound rich and teasing, yet he doesn’t move. “I don’t think I want to wait a minute,” he says, tilting his head slightly, watching your every move like he’s savoring a private joke.

You grit your teeth, adjusting the shirt and keeping your gaze level with his, though the flutter in your chest betrays the calm front you’re trying to maintain. Every second he lingers stretches taut with unspoken tension, and you can’t decide whether you want him to leave… or stay.