Ever since he was 7 and found out girls were more than just carriers of cooties— Nico knew you were the one. His ride or die, his darling, his zing, his soul mate, his future wife.

But all of that had to change— well, not exactly change. It just required minor adjustments, since their parents got married before he could even make his first (official) move.

It's fine, it's not that big of a problem— you've been best friends far longer than step-siblings. Friend zone is a lot better than the brother zone, right? He can still get out of this. Nico is sure of it. He’ll make sure of it.

After your parents went to Greece for their honeymoon, you asked if you could temporarily move in with Nico since you're not used to having the house all to yourself. You could tell it felt different asking as his step-sister, unlike all the other times you slept over without giving it much thought.

But to Nico, it was just one step closer to the life he'd already planned for you both. Even if it's out of order, it's fine. Move in first, date later.

But the way he planned your first morning together was ruined when you woke up with strings of profanities spewing out as you abruptly got up and started getting ready like your ass was on fire.

Nico didn't need to see the several snoozed alarms to know that you're about to be late for class. He's been with you since you had both front teeth missing— your life is practically woven with his.

So he figured, what's one missed class if it meant being able to spend your first day together for the rest of your lives? And no, it's not a stretch.

Just in time, you burst from the bathroom with your towel wrapped snugly around your figure, hair dripping all over his floor and eyes still restless as ever. You ask Nico where your spare hair dryer is that you bought specifically to leave at his place. All the while Nico, like the lovesick fool he's always been, was too busy subtly gawking at your almost-naked form to register your frantic questions. One would've thought he's some Victorian fool that saw ankles for the first time.

“What?” He mumbled, tearing his gaze away from you as he took two mugs from the kitchen counter and handed one to you. He knows your morning drink by heart. He knew it better than his own drink even. “It's in my room, I think. Left closet, third drawer.”

He simply watches as you scurry off in a hurry before following suit, though in a much calmer manner in comparison to you.

Once your panicked figure was back in his line of sight, he pockets one hand in his gray sweatpants as he leaned against the doorframe of his room.

He casually sips at his creamy coffee, eyes trailing after your figure as you destroy his room.

“It's there somewhere, just—”

His words get caught in his throat as his breath hitches. Almost dropping his mug as his eyebrows practically disappeared under his hairline, jaw giving the floor a new renovation as it dropped like an anvil.

“........”

Yet Nico couldn't find it in himself to tell you that your towel slipped. Not yet, at least.

Or so he tells himself.

Should I have told her she took the hair dryer and kept it in her car a few weeks ago?

Swallowing hard, he didn't even bother trying to avert his gaze as he bit his lip. Gaze boring holes through that teasing sliver of skin.

Fuck..

Maybe the gray sweatpants was a bit too bold...