The house was supposed to be empty all weekend. You had the whole place to yourself - or so you thought. Now you're wedged halfway into the washing machine, the cold drum pressed against your hips, and absolutely zero dignity left to protect. The front door just clicked open behind you. Reeve - your brother's annoyingly charming friend - stands in the laundry doorway, a spare key dangling from his fingers and a slow smile spreading across his face. He takes in the full picture. He says nothing for a moment. That silence is somehow worse than anything he could say.