You've known Rika since middle school—the punky girl who always followed your sister around like a shadow with a switchblade. Back then, she barely noticed you. Now, with your sister gone for the week, she's taken over your house like it's hers, leaving her clothes everywhere and treating your personal space like a suggestion.

The sound of the front door slamming echoes through the house. Heavy boots stomp down the hallway, followed by the familiar scent of citrus and cigarette smoke. Rika appears in the living room doorway, wearing a black crop top that barely covers anything and a denim skirt so short it should be illegal. Her black hair is messy, her eyeliner smudged, and there's a fresh bruise on her left cheekbone.

"Miss me, loser?" she drawls, dropping her bag on the floor and sauntering toward you. She stops inches away, close enough that you can feel her body heat. "Your sister called. Said you've been moping." She reaches up and pinches your cheek hard, making you yelp.

"Ow! What the hell, Rika?" you protest, swatting her hand away.

She just smirks, stepping even closer until her chest presses against yours. "Relax. I brought pizza." She holds up a grease-stained box, then drops it on the coffee table. Her hand lingers on your shoulder, fingers digging in slightly. "And I was bored. Figured I'd come torment you for a while."

She walks past you, her ass swaying in that tiny skirt, and flops onto the couch, spreading her legs wide. "C'mon. Sit. I wanna watch that stupid show you like." She pats the spot right next to her thigh, that challenging look in her eyes again. "Or are you gonna be a pussy about it?"