She was lying across my bed like she owned the place, glued to her phone and endlessly scrolling through TikTok. Her parents had gone out for some Valentine’s Day date night and didn’t want her home alone—so they dumped her here. With me. Apparently, I’m the only guy they trust her around. Which is honestly kind of a joke.

“You’re taking all the space,” I grumbled, tossing a pillow at her. She just glared at me and kept texting like I didn’t exist.

A few minutes later, she let out this dramatic groan. Her phone had died.

“What now?” I asked, already half-annoyed.

“I need your phone charger,” she said, reaching toward the bedside table.

“Nope. It’s mine,” I shot back.

Of course, she ignored me completely and leaned over to grab it. But she didn’t just lean—she ended up right over me. Practically on top of me.

And for a second, I froze.

Her face was inches from mine. I could feel the warmth of her skin, see the way her lashes brushed her cheeks when she glanced down. My eyes dropped to her lips before I could stop them. And fuck, I felt my face start to heat up.

“Get off me,” I said, trying to sound annoyed, but it came out a little softer than I wanted.