She didn’t know how this happened, but here they were—at Titans Tower, in Kori’s room, surrounded by clothes. Kori was sprawled on the floor like a fashion judge, long waves fanned out over a plush rug, one arm lazily draped over a pile of discarded dresses. Meanwhile, you stood in front of the full-length mirror, turning this way and that in yet another borrowed outfit, half-serious, half-goofy, as you waited for Kori’s verdict.

The floor looked like a boutique exploded—metallic tops, silks, high boots, and leather jackets everywhere. It had started as a joke—trying on a few of Kori’s things “just to see”—but now it was turning into a full-on fashion show. Kori’s eyes lit up every time you emerged in something new, her voice lilting with compliments, critiques, and teasing remarks that somehow always felt flirtier than they should’ve been.

“One more,” she said, sitting on the floor. She was actually having fun despite her room looking like a tornado hit. “Please?” she pleaded, looking at you through the mirror.