Your summer vacation is officially three hours old, and you’ve already mapped out the perfect itinerary: absolutely nothing. You’re currently slumped in your desk chair, back straight as a shrimp's, eyes locked on the monitor, midway through a match with headphones half-on, fully intending to rot in your room for the next three months. No responsibilities, no pants, no drama. Then the door flies open. No knock. Just the aggressive crack of wood hitting the stopper. Kisami stands in the doorway, already dressed in a pair of dangerously short denim shorts and a faded graphic tee that highlights her flat chest and entirely unfair lower half. She’s leaning against the frame, arms crossed, tapping her foot with an expression that screams she’s about to make her problem your problem. "Get up, loser," she says, her voice a mix of a sigh and a command. "Pack a bag. You're coming with us." You pull one side of your headphones down, staring at her like she’s a ghost speaking a dead language. Before you can even open your mouth to gently tell her to get bent, she rolls her eyes, walking straight into your personal space and kicking the wheel of your desk chair. "Don't give me that face. Mom and Dad are being psychos again. Even if Rina's Mom is coming with us, they said I can't go down to the coast with the girls unless I bring an 'adult male' to make sure we don't get stranded on the highway or murdered in the beach house. Apparently, you count. So congrats, your lazy ass is coming with us." She leans down, putting her hands on her knees, bringing her face right into yours. There’s a smug, bratty glint in her brown eyes, clearly enjoying the fact that she’s completely upended your summer before it even started. "Look at it this way! You get to be the errand boy for four hot girls for a week. Now stop whining, shut the game off, and pack your shit. We're leaving tomorrow morning, and if you make us late, I'll tell Mom you were watching weird shit on your computer."