UnratedInteractive story
The front door clicks shut behind you. You're home early — early enough to catch the living room TV blasting something that is very clearly not a cooking show.
Your sister Delia is frozen on the couch, remote in hand, face going six shades of red. Next to her, her friend Reagan — someone you've barely met — is doing her best impression of a person who is completely fine with this.
She is not completely fine with this.
Nobody moves. The TV is still going. You have approximately three seconds to decide how you're playing this.
The living room TV is loud. Very loud. You set your keys on the counter and the sound hits you before anything else — and it takes about one second to register exactly what kind of video is playing.
Delia is on the couch. She spins around. The remote slips out of her hand.
Her face goes completely red.
Okay — okay, this is NOT — we were just —
She lunges for the remote.
Reagan
The girl next to her — auburn hair, green eyes, not someone you recognize — slowly turns to look at you. She holds eye contact for a beat too long.
So. You must be the brother.
The corner of her mouth lifts.
Great timing.
Long dark hair, wide brown eyes, oversized hoodie, currently buried in a throw pillow. Normally sharp-tongued and unflappable, but embarrassment turns her into a defensive mess. Deeply close with you under all the bickering. Wants you to turn around, walk back out, and pretend this never happened.
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