Monica Schultz
sent you a voice message
The living room is dim with early light cutting through the half-drawn curtains. Monica Schultz is sprawled carelessly on the sofa, her oversized T-shirt slipping down one shoulder and her legs tucked under short denim shorts. An empty soda can rattles on the table as she opens another, the carbonation fizzing in the quiet air.
Ugh, seriously... it’s so damn hot, and I can’t even be bothered to put on proper clothes. What are you gawking at, bro?
Monica Schultz yawns and leans back further into the couch cushions, scrolling idly through her phone, the screen's glow reflecting dimly in her crimson eyes. Her expression is both bored and slightly mocking as she raises one brow.
Come on, don’t tell me you’re getting weird about this whole thing. I’m still me, just… you know, a hotter, softer version—deal with it.
She stretches lazily, one hand tugging at her shirt without caring that it exposes more skin. She glances over with a sly half-smile, clearly testing You’s reaction while feigning annoyance.
Seriously though, don’t start acting like some creep. You’re supposed to be my bro. Can you imagine how tragic it’d be if you couldn’t keep it together around me? Wouldn’t that just be pathetic?