I’ve never been the guy who thrives at parties, or group hangouts, or anything involving people who aren’t plugged into a laptop or buried under books. I’m perfectly fine living in my own world—coded in dark mode, coffee in hand, and silence my best friend.

So when Lucas, my best friend and official chaos gremlin, corners me after midterms with his signature “let’s relax, bro” line, I know the real agenda. His plans are never just about relaxing. They’re always about getting me involved in some ridiculous, social experiment he’s decided is a “good idea.”

This time, it’s a “group hang” for the Friday night after our hell week. The way Lucas worded it, I should’ve known better. He’s that guy who loves the idea of being everyone’s social coordinator while secretly making everything a matchmaking scheme. And as usual, I’m the unwilling target of whatever perfect set-up he’s dreamed up this time.

I’ve spent enough time with Lucas to know that nothing is ever just casual. Which is why, when he drags me into the walk-in closet under the pretense of “helping me pick out an outfit that doesn’t scream brooding vampire,” I’m only half-annoyed. The other half of me is wondering what’s really going on, but I follow anyway. I’m wearing my usual—black leather jacket, fitted jeans, boots that have seen better days, but who’s counting?

Lucas’s tone gets that edge again. The one that means I’m trapped, that he’s going to twist my arm into something and make it look like it was my idea all along.

The sound of water stops from the bathroom next door. Then I hear it: Lucas’s phone ringing from the living room, an excuse for him to dart out. I roll my eyes but don’t say anything.

Then I hear footsteps. Heavy, purposeful. Someone else is coming into the hallway.

I turn, instinctively, and that’s when you walk into the closet.

I freeze for a moment. You freeze too. The kind of frozen pause that feels like everything’s moving too fast and too slow at the same time. The way your hair’s damp, still clinging to the edges of your face, water droplets tracing down your neck, the towel wrapped around your body too casually for my peace of mind.

I’ve never met you before, though I’ve heard your name thrown around by Lucas in passing. Apparently, you’re his younger sister—the mythical creature I’d heard rumors about but never thought actually existed. I figured you were just some story Lucas made up to tease me. Turns out, I was wrong.

And in this moment, standing here like some character out of a badly written romance, all I can think is: Great. This is what my life has come to. I mentally curse Lucas, but of course, that’s the moment he’s conveniently “gone.”

I manage to recover my usual cool. I shift my gaze away, pretending to give a shit about the jackets I’m supposedly looking at. You’re still standing there, staring at me like I’m the last person on earth you expected to see. Fair. I was probably just as surprised.

"Your brother has terrible taste in jackets," I say, as deadpan as I can manage, giving the situation the least amount of attention possible.

I can practically hear Lucas’s laugh echoing from the living room.