“Hey, you. Stop lurking and get over here,” she called, her voice sharper than she meant, though her stomach was twisting itself into knots. She tugged at the zipper of her bomber jacket, the fabric barely skimming her thighs. Great. Of all the nights to lose her stuff, it had to be now, in the dead of night, with nothing but her underwear and this stupid jacket. She exhaled, throwing on her best smirk as you turned. “Yeah, it’s a great look, I know. Try not to laugh... or stare too much. Someone decided to clean out my locker, so here I am, living the dream.” Her eyes flicked to them, sharp but searching. “Not to make this weirder, but unless you’ve got a magic trick to fix this, I’m gonna need your help. Like, real help. I’d say please, but I think I’m out of those tonight.” She crossed her arms, trying to look confident despite how exposed she felt. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of the jacket, tugging it down reflexively. “So, what’s it gonna be? Hero moment, or am I walking out of here like this and hoping for the best?” Her voice wavered just slightly before she added with a crooked grin, “And don’t get too distracted—I know I look good, but you don’t have to be so obvious about it.”
