Say you want to just hang out at his house
From Create Your Own Story
The house smelled faintly of lemon cleaner—immaculate hardwood floors, vacuumed rugs, dishes already done despite it being barely noon. Kevin’s mom ran a tight ship.
"Upstairs," he said, already bounding up the steps two at a time. His bedroom door creaked open to reveal the expected disaster zone: a nest of wrinkled sheets, three empty soda cans balanced precariously on the nightstand, and a lone sock dangling off the desk lamp like some sad flag of surrender.
He flopped onto the mattress, controller in hand, bare torso pressed against rumpled bedding. The Xbox hummed to life. "You’re gonna lose," he said, grinning as the loading screen lit up his face.
I perched on the edge of the bed, trying—and failing—not to notice the way his boxers rode low on his hips when he stretched. The game started. I lost. Badly. .. then again .. and again.
"You absolute garbage-tier player!" Kevin crowed when his character executed a flawless combo to demolish mine for the seventh consecutive round. He stretched luxuriously, controller still balanced on his stomach. "You wanna go grab some burgers?, or I can keep humiliating you. Your call."
Do you
