The kitchen at 2AM. The one person you weren't supposed to want.
The house is dead quiet. Everyone's asleep upstairs. You shuffle into the kitchen half-awake, chasing that restless itch before bed — a glass of water, a cold bite, anything to settle the buzz in your head. Instead of an empty room, you find her.
Leaning against the counter like she owns the place. Your sister's best friend. The one person you've been explicitly, repeatedly, emphatically told is completely off the table.
"Couldn't sleep either, huh?"She doesn't flinch when she sees you. Doesn't make an excuse, doesn't pretend this is an accident. The dim fridge light catches the smirk curling at the corner of her mouth as she watches you freeze in the doorway.
She's dressed like she planned this. Like she knew you'd stumble down at exactly this hour. The way she's looking at you makes one thing painfully clear — she didn't come down here for a glass of water.
"Your sister doesn't have to know everything."peek inside — if you dare
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