Step-sister -final- — Life With A Flirty

Outside, a car honks. My mom calls up the stairs. Real life, rushing back in.

Our parents came home to find us sitting on the porch swing, my arm around her, her head on my shoulder. My stepdad froze. My mom’s coffee cup stopped halfway to her mouth. Life With a Flirty Step-Sister -Final-

“Don’t ‘Emma’ me.” She propped herself up on her elbow, inches away. Her hair fell over one shoulder. “We’re not really brother and sister. We met when we were sixteen. Our parents signed a piece of paper. That’s it.” Outside, a car honks

But in the end, they listened.

“No,” she whispered, tracing a line on my forearm. “It’s simple. You’re scared. I’m not.” Our parents came home to find us sitting

The summer after graduation felt like one long, slow exhale.

I always answered with a joke. A deflection. A “You’re impossible.”