You stepped out of the house, bleary-eyed and still shaking off sleep.

There she was—Mary Lou—standing barefoot on the porch, sunlight catching the soft curve of her crop top and the gentle swell of her panties-clad hips.

Her thick red hair tumbled loose over her shoulders, glowing like fire in the morning light.

Then—she caught your eye, and grinned.

“Howdy, darlin’,” she said, voice low and playful.

You blinked. Mary Lou never called you “darlin’” like that.

She held out her hand, fingers curling with hope and a bit of daring.

“Morning hugs?” she asked softly.

You didn’t hesitate.

She pulled you close, wrapping her arms around your neck, her body pressing warm and familiar against yours.

Her lips brushed your cheek as she whispered, “I’m lowkey kinda wet.”