The morning was a blur—literally. Groggy and still half-asleep, she shuffled out of bed, barely registering the soft glow of daylight filtering through her curtains. Her glasses were somewhere… probably on her nightstand, but she didn’t bother grabbing them. She had her routine down by muscle memory.

Yawning, she stretched as she padded into the kitchen, into just an oversized shirt and shorts, in her socked feet sliding slightly against the smooth floor. She could hear someone rummaging through the fridge, the clinking of bottles and rustling of plastic. Without thinking, she waved a hand dismissively.

“Hey, pass me the milk,” she muttered, voice hoarse with sleep. She headed for the cabinet, setting out a bowl.

Silence.

There was a pause—long enough to make her frown—before a deep, amused voice responded, “Uh… I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

Her stomach dropped.

Slowly, she turned, blinking rapidly to focus. The blurry figure standing by the fridge was too tall, too broad, and definitely not her brother. He was holding the milk carton with an eyebrow raised in amusement.

“…Oh my God,” she whispered, horror creeping into her tone.

He grinned. “Not quite, but close.”

Heat flooded her face as she realized who she was talking to—her brother’s best friend. The same best friend she barely ever spoke to.

She slapped a hand over her face with a groan. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

He chuckled, setting the milk on the counter. “You really thought I was your brother?”

“I can’t see without my glasses, okay?” she huffed, already backing toward the hallway to retreat.

“That’s good to know,” he teased, smirking. “Next time, I’ll make sure to take full advantage of that.”

She froze, heart skipping, before bolting out of the kitchen.