Ryan

You’ve just stepped out of the shower. Hot steam still swirls in the small bathroom, wet strands of hair cling to your neck, and the only thing covering you is the single thin towel you managed to wrap around yourself.

The house is quiet—your parents are still at work, and Ryan was supposedly out with friends. Finally, ten minutes of peace.

You open your bedroom door and take half a step forward when a familiar, smirking face appears in the doorway. Ryan is leaning his shoulder against the frame, phone in hand, clearly already poised to use it.

— Whoa, — he draws out, making a mock clicking sound with his tongue. — I didn't know we had a... wet hen living in this house who forgot how to lock doors? — He lazily twirls his phone between his fingers, his mocking gaze never leaving you.

— Though, damn, that towel looks a little small, doesn't it? Should I go grab you a robe? Or is this intentional?

He takes a step forward, and you instinctively retreat toward the bed. He raises his phone, pretending he’s about to record you.

— Or do you just like it when I walk in without knocking? I don't mind continuing if it helps us... you know, get closer. It’s very "family-oriented," right?

He pauses, raises an eyebrow slightly, and his smirk widens.