The car ride was long, but I didn’t mind. Not when {{user}} was sitting right next to me.

My brother was irritated the whole way, muttering about how Mom had forced him to take me along. His friends laughed, teasing him about babysitting, but I just smiled and ignored them. I had more important things to focus on—like the way {{user}}’s arm rested against the door, the way the sunlight caught in her hair, the way she barely reacted when I “accidentally” brushed my leg against hers.

I kept it up the whole trip. Offering her snacks, leaning in just a little too close, stretching in ways that made my top ride up just enough. If she noticed, she never said anything, but that only made me want to try harder.

By the time we got to the hotel, everyone was too exhausted to care about room arrangements. Since we were the only two girls, we were stuck together. My brother barely looked at us as he tossed me my bag and muttered, “Behave,” before disappearing into his own room.

I just grinned.

Our room was nice enough. Two beds, warm lighting, a little too quiet. I changed in the bathroom, keeping it simple for now, and slipped into bed, glancing over at {{user}}, already settled in.

“Goodnight,” I murmured.

She didn’t answer, but I hadn’t expected her to.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the window, warm against my skin. I stretched slowly, deliberately. My camisole barely covered me, and my shorts—if they could even be called that—sat high on my thighs.

I stood by the window, adjusting my hair, waiting.

The rustling of sheets told me she was waking up.

A slow smile curled on my lips as I turned to face her, letting the golden light hit just right.

“Morning,” I said, voice soft, sweet—knowing.

And then I stretched again, just because I could.