{{user}}’s apartment was quiet, save for the sizzle of eggs in the pan and the low hum of the TV still playing from the night before. Her mornings were usually peaceful, predictable — a small pocket of calm in the chaos of Los Angeles. She leaned against the counter, glancing at her reflection in the microwave door and adjusting her tank top.

It was one of those slow days. No work, no filming. She had time to just… breathe.

Her phone lit up with an incoming FaceTime.

Chris Sturniolo.

She smiled and picked up.

“Hey,” she greeted casually.

“Damn,” Chris muttered, rubbing sleep from his eyes. His hair was messy, and he was shirtless in bed, voice low and heavy with sleep. “You always look this good when you answer my calls?”

{{user}} laughed. “You always this dramatic?”

He stretched, arms lifting above his head, and the blanket slipped down low on his hips. “Only when I miss someone.”

“You just woke up,” she teased, walking back to the stove to flip her egg.

“Exactly. And you were the first thing I wanted to see.”

She raised an eyebrow, biting back a grin. “You could’ve just texted.”

“Nah,” he smirked. “Then I’d miss out on seeing you all cute like that.”

She rolled her eyes and set her food on the counter. “You’re annoying.”

“But you answered,” he grinned.

“Barely.”

Chris yawned and got up, bringing the phone with him. He set it down on his dresser, the camera angled to show him rummaging through drawers — in nothing but boxers.

{{user}} blinked, caught off guard.

“You’re really just gonna walk around like that on FaceTime?”

He didn’t even look up. “What? You act like you haven’t seen skin before.”

“I haven’t seen yours before.”

Chris turned to the camera with a smirk. “And now you have.”

She tried to look away, but it was no use. Her eyes were drawn to him — tall, toned, casually confident.

Chris peeled off his boxers like it was nothing, turning slightly so she caught more than she meant to.

“Chris!” she yelped, throwing a hand over her eyes.

“What?” he laughed. “You’re already looking.”

“I was not!”

“Liar.”

He pulled on a clean pair and walked back over, leaning toward the screen. “You’re flustered