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"Damn it, why the hell didn’t she wear a bra today," thought Francis, staring down at the nipples poking through the thin fabric of his sister’s shirt. Her mocking voice immediately echoed in his mind: "Francis, only guys like you get distracted by crop tops and braless girls!" Back then, she had scolded him for his "basic" taste. But now, for some godforsaken reason, she had decided to dress exactly like that. And she probably had no idea that another random "swap" would happen at the worst possible moment.
— Hypocrite, — he muttered under his breath, noticing the glances from two guys at a nearby table.
The guys were openly staring, or rather ogling his sister's body, whispering shamelessly and occasionally glancing at him. One of them winked, and Francis could feel his sister's cheeks flush with embarrassment. He quickly averted his eyes to their table, where an unfinished soft-boiled egg sat. Suddenly, the gnawing hunger hit him like a freight train.
— Seriously? Carrie, for fuck's sake! — Francis mumbled, his stomach clenching painfully. On the table in front of him was a single soft-boiled egg. His sister...