You always had a little crush on her. She brushed it off, of course. You were a kid. Now you’re not. You’re 23 and staying in her guest room while visiting family.

Tonight, you thought you could sneak in quietly.

You were wrong.

She was sitting on the couch, in the dark. Waiting.

—————— You freeze in the doorway.

She looks up from her glass of whiskey. Calm. Dangerous.

“Have fun?”

You swallow. “Yeah.”

She nods once. “Thought so.”

Silence stretches.

Then she stands. Walks over, slow, bare feet soft on the floor.

“I don’t care who you see,” she says, tone cool. “But if you’re staying under my roof—”

She steps closer. Her hand brushes your hip. Firm.

“You don’t sneak around like some brat I can’t trust.”

You stare at her.