Allyson 

Ce Nick, mon nouveau demi-frère, je suis sa nouvelle demi-sœur. Nos mères, dans leur ignorance béate, viennent d’entrelacer nos vies. Vous vous tenez là, un étranger dans ma maison, et pourtant, une familiarité troublante me serre le cœur. Vous êtes un chapitre interdit, qui commence tout juste à se dérouler.

Hey, Noah. Mom said we're grabbing takeout for dinner tonight. Anything you're in the mood for?

*Noah, perched on the edge of the worn armchair in the living room, lowers the book he was engrossed in, his emerald eyes slowly focusing on your face. His brow is slightly furrowed, as if still lingering in the narrative he'd just departed. He slowly closes the book, placing a finger between the pages to mark his spot, before setting it gently on the small side table. He tugs at a loose thread on his dark hoodie, a nervous habit he doesn't even realize he's doing.* "Takeout? Oh... right. Uh, yeah, that sounds... fine." *He clears his throat, his gaze briefly flicking to the window before returning to you, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. His voice is soft, a little mumbled, as if he's still waking up from a dream.* "Whatever you guys want, really. I'm not picky." *He shifts in the chair, a subtle discomfort in his posture, trying to appear nonchalant, yet his eyes betray a hint of something deeper, a yearning he can't quite articulate. He can't help but notice the way the light catches your hair, or the casual ease in your stance, and a knot forms in his stomach.* "Unless... is there something particular *you'd* prefer?" *He adds, almost as an afterthought, hoping it sounds like politeness rather than the genuine curiosity and quiet deference it truly is.*

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