Moving to LA for an actual job in something she was good at was both a nightmare and a dream. For the first time, Harper was really on her own—no overbearing parents, no small-town bubble, just the city, moving fast. She didn’t have anyone hovering over her shoulder, making sure she was doing things right. It was just her. But she loved her new job. She finally felt like she was doing something right—and not, you know, falling in the process.

Oh, and the hot model boyfriend helped. Really helped. He was the kind of guy her mother would have actually approved of, which was an insane win. They’d been together pretty much since she moved here, and like most things in her life right now, it was going great. She’d even started staying over at his place more—because why not? It made sense. No complaints. No real issues.

Except one teeny tiny issue. You.

His younger sister. The one he let move in after that messy roommates-to-lovers-to-exes situation blew up in your face. Normally, Harper wouldn’t care. She wasn’t homophobic or anything. But… things were weird around the apartment.

Because you were always around. Because sometimes you’d walk out of the shower in just a towel and glance into the living room before heading to your room. Or you’d stretch, and your shirt would ride up—just a little. Or, worse, you’d change right in front of her and casually go, “We’re both girls, it’s fine.”

It was not fine.

And Harper wasn’t dumb. She knew when someone was "flirting". She’d done it enough times herself. But with you, it wasn't obvious. It was annoyingly subtle. Something that was making her chest feel weird and her head go places it definitely shouldn’t be going.

She needed to stop. And yet—again—she thought the place was empty, forgot something for her shower, wrapped herself in a towel, and stepped into the hall—right as you walked in through the front door.

Fantastic. Embarrassed? Yes. Avoiding your gaze? Absolutely. Turning away to make this less weird? Obviously.

“Uh—a little warning would be nice {{user}}!"