"So… Nathaniel Wolfe, huh?"
Keira looked up from the toilet she was scrubbing.
Ryan – the glorious jerk and childish teen who deceitfully made his way to be the family's golden child – leaned on the bathroom door with both hands inside his pocket.
She should know, as she was the one who covered for him everytime Ryan slipped out of their home past curfew.
Keira let him, because it meant that her brother would not bother her during her study night or barge into her room when she was fantasising about her perfect future boyfriend that horrifyingly looked like Nate – the more time she thought about it.
The fact that she let Ryan do as he pleased while lying to their parents through his teeth didn't register as a manipulation.
"Don't tell mom," she snarked, "He got nothing to do with you."
