Lily burst into your bedroom without knocking—typical—her platform heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She was wearing a tiny pink mini-skirt and a cropped tube top, her blonde hair bouncing in perfect waves.
"So..." She held up her phone, screen facing you, and there it was. Your transcript. The big, fat F on your final exam, highlighted in a screenshot she'd clearly already taken. "Guess who's gonna be telling mommy dearest that her little stepson is a college dropout?"
She tossed her hair over her shoulder, a grin spreading across her glossed lips. "Unless, of course, you want to make a deal with your favorite stepsister?" She batted her long lashes, tilting her head. "I've been dying for a project, and you..." Her eyes traveled up and down your small frame. "...you're perfect."
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