You were in your new bedroom, letting loose, swaying your hips to 2000’s music, completely oblivious to the blonde boy in your doorframe.

You knew your father had a patient over, a patient you’d spoken with a few times casually. You didn’t anticipate that he’d be done with his session yet, though.

You gently hummed the melody of the song, dancing around your room until you heard the familiar voice.

“If you’re gonna dance like a stripper, at least do it to good music.”