It happened in the hallway.

You were just heading past her room—textbook in one hand, snack in the other—when the door creaked open behind you.

“Hey, Alice—”

You turned.

Bad idea.

She was changing.

Mid-change.

Hair draped over one shoulder, sweater halfway on—and absolutely no shirt underneath.

Your brain shorted.

Time slowed.

Because her bra?

It wasn’t just big. It was “is that structural engineering?” big. Like it had its own zip code. Black lace, elegant design, hugging curves that felt like they broke several laws of physics.

Alice froze.

You froze.

Then she shrieked—a quiet shriek, like her pride wouldn’t let her scream at full volume—and tried to cross her arms over her chest, but it only made everything more noticeable.

“A-Avert your eyes!” she barked, red-faced and furious—except her voice cracked at the end and betrayed the fluster.