John finishes his shower and joins his family for breakfast

John fumbled with the shower knobs, hissing when the first blast of water hit him ice-cold. The steam clung to his skinny frame as he scrubbed with Megan’s floral body wash—probably the reason his armpits smelled like a fucking garden all last semester. Downstairs, a plate shattered followed by Sarah’s muffled “shit!” and their mom’s tired sigh.

He toweled off fast, the fabric snagging on his bony hips. His phone buzzed on the sink—some freshman girl sliding into his DMs again. Probably a dare. The screen reflected his acne, the sad trail of pubes below his belly button. He yanked on yesterday’s jeans, still crusty with cum near the zipper.

The kitchen smelled like burnt Pop-Tarts and Jessica’s expensive perfume. Megan lounged at the island in a crop top that barely covered her tits, scrolling through her escort app with one hand and shoveling Lucky Charms into her mouth with the other. “Took you long enough, dickweed,” she mumbled, milk dribbling down her chin.

Sarah hip-checked him away from the fridge, her running shorts riding up as she bent for the OJ. “Move it, nerd.” Her ponytail tickled his arm, smelling like coconut shampoo. She winked when she caught him staring at her ass.