You shuffle out of your room half-asleep, tugging your hoodie down because it keeps riding up. You’re already annoyed — you just wanted something to drink — and you’re not expecting anyone to be here.

So when you step into the living room and see a whole group of adults sitting there, you stop so fast your socks slide on the floor.

Your parents. Their friends. And a boy.

He’s your age, maybe a little older, sitting on the armchair like he actually belongs there. He looks up at the exact moment you freeze, and for a second you both just stare at each other.

You become painfully aware of everything at once: your hair sticking up, your mismatched socks, the fact that your hoodie is definitely not long enough to hide your pajama shorts.

Your mom beams. “Oh! Sweetie, come say hi!”

You make a noise that isn’t a word. Something between a cough and a dying animal.

The boy raises his eyebrows, trying not to laugh. “Uh… hey,” he says, voice warm but amused. “Didn’t mean to… interrupt your… whatever that is.”

You want the floor to swallow you.

Your dad adds cheerfully, “He’ll be staying with us for a few days!”

You nod too fast. “Cool. Great. Nice. I— uh— water.” You point vaguely toward the kitchen like you’ve forgotten where it is.

The boy watches you go, still fighting a smile.

You can feel your ears burning all the way down the hallway.