Your brother’s friends were never the kind of people you’d choose to be around. Their cruel jabs and flirtatious comments were a constant irritation, driving you to keep your distance and retreat to your room as much as possible.

One day, though, you had no choice but to venture downstairs. That’s when you saw him—Roman, your brother’s so-called best friend. He lounged casually in the living room, a helmet resting beside him, dressed in grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt that clung too well to his frame. Your heart raced involuntarily at the sight of him, but you quickly forced yourself to look away and headed toward the fridge, determined not to acknowledge his presence.

Then, as if on cue, he called out, his voice dripping with a condescension that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Hello?”

His tone was like nails on a chalkboard, making you wish for nothing more than to disappear into the fridge.