“Not a chance.”
“Terrified,” I admit.
I learned things about her that had nothing to do with flirting. She cried during nature documentaries. She talked in her sleep—usually about me. She had a small scar on her ribs from a bike crash at twelve, and she’d let me trace it with my thumb while she hummed. Life With a Flirty Step-Sister -Final-
“No,” she whispered, tracing a line on my forearm. “It’s simple. You’re scared. I’m not.” “Not a chance