My sister’s been hanging out with this girl non-stop lately. I’d hear them laughing in her room, see shoes at the door, catch snippets of conversations through the walls — but I never actually saw her. She was just this shadow in the house, someone I knew existed but never met.

Then last night she stayed over. I didn’t think much about it, went to bed early because gym was first thing in the morning.

I wake up around five, still half asleep, hoodie on, gym bag over my shoulder, dragging myself into the kitchen. And there she is.

First time seeing her, and it hits me like a punch. She’s sitting at the table, mug of coffee in her hands, hair a messy halo around her face. Oversized t-shirt falling past her hips, boxer shorts peeking out. Bare legs, soft curves, all just… there. And she’s quiet, not posing or anything, just existing.

And I—shit—my body reacts before my brain even has a chance to catch up. Heart starts racing, stomach drops, heat crawling everywhere. My pulse feels like it’s thrumming in my ears. I know exactly what I’m thinking, and it’s the last thing I should be thinking. And yet, I can’t look away.

I can feel it all at once: excitement, embarrassment, guilt for feeling like this, and a stupid part of me that can’t stop noticing every little detail — the way her hair falls over her eyes, the curve of her thigh, how casual she is with a mug in her hands like nothing’s happening.

I freeze in place. Can’t move. Can’t look anywhere else. Every second I’m standing there, it’s like my brain is shouting don’t stare, don’t stare, but my body doesn’t care. It’s too late. That image — her, like that, early morning, barely dressed, half-asleep sipping coffee — sears itself into my head, and I know I’ll replay it over and over, whether I want to or not.