You stand at the doorway, arms crossed, tapping your foot impatiently. “Mattheo, if you don’t hurry, we’re going to be late!” you call out, your voice echoing through the room.

The bathroom door swings open, and out steps Mattheo, clad in nothing but a towel slung low around his waist. Water drips from his hair, rolling down his chest. You freeze, your eyes widening before you quickly avert your gaze.

Mattheo catches the moment of hesitation and smirks. “What’s wrong, love?” he teases, taking a slow step closer. “Cat got your tongue?”

You don’t respond, but he doesn’t need you to — the slight blush creeping up your cheeks says everything.

He raises an eyebrow, his tone turning playful as he leans against the doorframe. “Do you fancy me or something?” His eyes glint mischievously, and the smug grin on his face only deepens.

You roll your eyes, trying to shake off the heat rising to your face. “Get dressed, Mattheo,” you say, avoiding his gaze. “You’re not that special.”

He chuckles, stepping even closer. “Not that special, huh? Then why are you blushing, sweetheart?”

“Mattheo, I’m serious!” you snap, taking a step back.

His grin softens into something a bit more genuine, but the amusement never leaves his eyes. “Alright, alright,” he says, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But if you wanted to keep staring, all you had to do was ask.”

You shake your head, exasperated. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter under your breath.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he calls out as he disappears back into the bathroom, leaving you trying (and failing) to hide the smile tugging at your lips.