The kiss lingered, growing deeper and more intimate with every passing moment. Summer's movements became subtle but unmistakable; her hips shifted slightly, her body pressing closer to Don's.
The faint warmth radiating from between her legs was noticeable even through the thin fabric of her leggings, and Don couldn't help but feel the electricity of the moment coursing through him.
The world seemed to narrow to just the two of them.
But before things could escalate further, a voice rang out from downstairs.
"Summer! Donnie! What are you two doing up there?" Samantha's motherly tone called out, breaking the moment instantly.
Summer practically jumped away from Don, breaking both the kiss and the embrace in a fumbling rush. Her movements were frantic, and she nearly toppled off the bed as she scrambled to her feet.
"N-nothing, Mom! Just, uh… playing tag!" she blurted out, her voice uneven and pitched slightly higher than usual. Her heart pounded in her chest, the thud of it echoing in her ears as she tried to regain her composure.
Don, however, barely moved. He remained laid on the bed, his hands resting behind his head in a casual pose. His superhuman hearing told him Samantha was still downstairs, her footsteps distant.
He turned his head slightly, his gaze falling on Summer as she peeked nervously through the doorway.
"Playing tag?" Don repeated, his tone full of mockery. "Really?"
Summer's face flushed an even deeper shade of red, and she shot him an embarrassed glare over her shoulder.
"S-shut up, okay? I didn't see you trying to answer," she argued back in a low voice.
Before Don could respond, Samantha's voice carried up again. "Well, alright… as long as you two aren't fighting."
Summer snapped her attention back to the doorway, leaning further out to make sure Samantha wasn't on her way up. Her carefulness amused Don. It was obvious she was fully aware of the intimacy they'd just shared—and equally aware of how disastrous it would be if anyone found out.
Don watched her for a moment, his lips curling into a small, mischievous smile. He moved quietly from the bed, his footsteps muffled by the carpet as he approached her from behind.
Before Summer could react, Don's hands slid around her waist, pulling her back gently but firmly. Her body stiffened instantly, her plump ass pressing against him.
"W-what are you doing, you idiot!?" she whispered harshly, twisting her head to glare at him.
Don leaned in close, his breath brushing against her ear as he spoke in a calm, almost teasing tone. "Pulling you back before you say anything dumb again. You do know Mom's still downstairs, right? You don't need super-hearing to hear someone come up the stairs."
Summer's glare faltered, and though her face remained flushed, a hint of realization crossed her features. Her heart was still racing—not just from the kiss, but from the sudden interruption. As much as she hated to admit it, Don's words helped steady her nerves.
Still, instead of acknowledging this, she pulled away from his grasp, her movements quick. "Whatever," she muttered, stepping out into the hallway. "I… I knew that."
She paused briefly, turning her head to glance back at him. For a moment, their eyes met, her frown softening ever so slightly before she quickly looked away again.
Keeping her voice low, she added, "Don't forget we're doing movie night today."
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and began walking down the hallway, her steps quick but not hurried.
Don stayed where he was, watching her retreating figure with mild curiosity. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, muttering to himself, "I don't remember agreeing to that."
Before he could think too hard about it, Summer's voice rang out from the hallway. "Don't forget!"
A small smile then appeared at the corner of his lips as he shook his head.
'Guess I don't have much of a choice,' he thought to himself, before stepping back into his room and letting the moment pass.
The room was dim, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the open window casting faint silver patterns across the walls. Don was laid across his bed, his head buried in the pillow, one arm hanging lazily off the edge.
Naps were, without question, his go-to method of unwinding after a workout. They weren't just refreshing—they were necessary. His body, no matter how enhanced, still appreciated the moments of rest.
Unfortunately, this nap was not destined to last.
**Bzzzzzt...** **Bzzzzzt...**
The sharp vibration of his phone echoed on the wooden surface of the nightstand, accompanied by its dull glow in the dim room.
Don groaned softly, refusing to move for a few more seconds. His face remained buried in the pillow as he muttered, "This better be good."
Reluctantly, he rolled over, sitting on the edge of the bed with a soft **creak** of the mattress. He rubbed his eyes briefly before reaching for the phone. Its screen lit up with a name that had become all too familiar recently: Donald.
'Why do I get the feeling he thinks we're best friends now?'
Despite the lack of face-to-face hangouts, Donald had proven to be persistent in maintaining communication. Calls. Texts. Memes at 2 AM. It was constant, bordering on relentless. Most of the time, Don ignored him, opting to reply later with a vague "was busy" excuse.
But he was awake now, and there was no avoiding it. So with a resigned sigh, Don swiped to answer.
The moment he did, Donald's voice burst through the speaker like a bomb.
"DUDE!! YOU WON'T BELIEVE THIS!!"
Don flinched, pulling the phone away from his ear for a second. He took a calming breath before bringing it back, his tone flat.
"Slow down, man. What happened?"
On the other end, Don could hear Donald's heavy breathing and even the faint sound of pacing. There was an audible **clack** of shoes on a tiled floor, suggesting Donald was moving in circles or back and forth.
"Okay, okay," Donald said, his voice slightly calmer but still full of excitement. "Sorry, but check this, bro—my uncle, and I kid you not, just gave me a family VIP pass to tonight's Battle of the Superhumans Qualifiers!"
Don stared blankly at the wall, his free hand dragging down his face as he processed the words.
'What the heck is that?'
It was another reminder that despite everything, there were still parts of this world he didn't quite understand. The phrase "Battle of the Superhumans" rang a vague bell, but beyond that, he was clueless.
Judging from Donald's tone, though, it was clearly something important—or at least something he thought was important.
Not wanting to come across as completely out of the loop, Don mustered a weak attempt at enthusiasm.
"Much wow, bro. I don't know what to say."
Donald, oblivious to the faint sarcasm in Don's voice, responded with even more excitement.
"Say less, bro! Just get ready—I'll be there to pick you up in five minutes!"
Don's expression shifted immediately at the mention of "get ready." His mouth opened to object, but before he could utter a word, the line went dead.
He stared at the screen, the call log mocking him with its abrupt end. Then, as if the universe wanted to pile on, a message from Donald popped up.
Donald: Feel free to invite some other people, up to five, especially cute girls. Or guys.
Don sighed, running a hand through his hair.
Before he could even type a reply, another message appeared.
Donald: Not cute guys, just guys. You know, bros.
Dropping the phone onto the nightstand with a soft **clack**, Don leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting to the window.
"Fucking hell," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
With a reluctant groan, Don stood up, stretching briefly as his joints gave a soft **pop**. He glanced at his closet, mentally debating how much effort this "Battle of the Superhumans" thing actually warranted in terms of outfit selection.
"Five minutes, huh?" he muttered under his breath. "Bet he's already outside."