Wardrobe malfunction, Steph

The kitchen smells like caramel and spice; every counter is cluttered with bowls and frosting bags. Steph hums along to the faint music from the living room, sleeves rolled up, hair spilling loose from under her tilted witch’s hat.

When you reach for a plate beside her, your hands brush, and her laugh comes low, warm. “Careful, honey,” she says, glancing up through her lashes. “Mama has to make sure everything is ready for tonight.”

She straightens slowly, hips grazing the counter, and tilts her head as if studying you. “You’ve been such a help tonight,” she coos, soft praise laced with something thicker. “I don’t know what I’d do without you running around behind me.”

She turns for a moment, handing you a tray of cookies, her fingers lingering just a second too long around yours. “Let’s finish this up so you can still go out with your friends later.”

Steph leans over the counter, reaching for a small tray of cupcakes, her witch’s hat bobbing forward. A quick rip cuts through the music. She freezes, blinking once before letting out an awkward laugh.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she mutters, twisting to look over her shoulder. “Guess these tights didn’t appreciate all the bending and lifting tonight.” Her cheeks flush pink. “That’s what I get for dressing cute instead of practical, huh?”