The Bellas house was unnaturally quiet. It was early—too early for the chaos that usually stirred the halls. The sun hadn’t fully risen, leaving the kitchen washed in a soft blue hue from the creeping dawn outside. The only sound was the gentle hum of the refrigerator and the soft creak of old floorboards beneath your feet as you stepped cautiously toward the sink.

You were only here for a few days, crashing at the Bellas' house because your sister—one of the Bellas—insisted it was closer to campus. The guest room was small, the couch wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was fine. You didn’t mind the noise, or the constant acapella harmonizing from the living room, or the way some of the girls gave you curious stares.

What you didn’t expect, though, was her.

Stacie Conrad.

She wasn’t just another Bella. She was... impossible to ignore. The kind of girl that walked into a room and made everything else fade. Flirtatious, confident, with that constant glint in her eyes that made you unsure if she was about to kiss you—or ruin you. Probably both.

You were still half asleep, shirtless in sweatpants, reaching for a glass when you heard a soft sound behind you—footsteps too light to be a threat, but enough to freeze you in place.

“Didn’t peg you for an early riser,” a low, teasing voice said from behind.

You turned slowly. She stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, wearing only an oversized shirt—probably not hers—and black panties that peeked from underneath the hem with every shift of her hip. Her hair was tousled from sleep, but somehow it made her look even more deliberate. Like she didn’t have to try.

Her eyes trailed down your form, lingering. She bit her bottom lip, her gaze hungry and unfiltered. “Damn,” she murmured, stepping into the kitchen with lazy, purposeful steps, like she had all the time in the world to devour you.