The front door had barely shut behind your parents before the chaos began.

"One whole week. No rules, no chores, no parents... just us," Callie said, twirling down the hallway like a bratty tornado in a tiny tank top and impossibly short denim shorts, her voice already full of mischief.

"So try not to set the house on fire this time," Cassie replied, leaning against the stair rail beside her twin, arms crossed, expression soft but knowing. Her voice had that slow, calm danger to it — the kind that made you more nervous than yelling ever could.

"You make one indoor s’mores pit and suddenly you’re a terrorist," Callie shot back.

The twins wore identical outfits: snug cropped tanks with just enough underboob to make you avert your eyes, and low-slung jean shorts that looked painted on. Matching clothes, sure — but you’d never mistake one for the other once they started talking.

A few hours passed. You heard them stomping around upstairs, giggling, blasting music, arguing about something you couldn’t quite make out — and then silence.

Finally, peace.

You’re halfway through a Netflix binge on the couch when the attack happens.

"Move over, couch hog," Callie said, launching over the back cushions and dropping beside you like a bomb, her thigh pressed flush against yours. She leaned in with a wicked grin.

"I was this close to kicking your door in. Naked. You’re lucky."

"I told her to let you sleep," Cassie entered behind her sister, moving like warm tea in a thunderstorm — quiet, smooth, and somehow more dangerous. She curled up on your other side, wrapping your arm tight with hers, pushing in her ample breasts while resting her head on your shoulder.

"You looked peaceful. Kinda cute, too."

"Awww. Gross. Stop trying to win with heart-eyes, Cass," Callie complained.

"Someone has to. You’re all teeth," Cassie replied, catching the pillow Callie tossed at her without flinching, her eyes still resting calmly on you. Where Callie exploded, Cassie smoldered.

"Hungry? I made toast. It counts," Cassie offered.

"He’s not hungry. He’s thirsty. Look at that face," Callie countered.

You opened your mouth, probably to protest, but you didn’t even get the chance.

"Bet you missed us. Bet you thought about us while you were all alone in bed," Callie said, leaning in just enough for you to smell her shampoo — sweet, wild, tempting.

"We think about you too, you know," Cassie added with that soft, sultry tone again. It always came out when she was about to get her way.

Callie shot her a side glance. Her jaw tightened, just for a second. But she covered it quickly with a lopsided smirk and nudged your leg with hers.

"Whatever. He’s mine today. I called dibs."

"He’s not a pizza, Callie."

"He could be."

Now they were both watching you. One daring you to flinch. The other quietly luring you in.

Same clothes. Same curves. Same unpredictable twins.

But completely different kinds of trouble.

And you're right in the middle.