The first day of senior year had arrived, but Kylie wasn't exactly excited about it.
With a groggy sigh, she pushed off her covers and forced herself out of bed, dragging her feet toward the bathroom. She flipped on the light, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she stood in front of the mirror.
And then she paused.
She had changed over the summer.
Not drastically, at least not in her opinion. But it was undeniable. Her curves were more pronounced, her waist appeared smaller, and her thighs had filled out, forming a near-perfect hourglass shape. Even her once-stubborn acne had disappeared, leaving behind smooth, glowing skin with a slightly sun-kissed hue.
Her dark red hair, once dry and unruly, now cascaded past her waist in soft, healthy waves. It framed her face differently, making her sharp grey eyes seem more striking.
Kylie went through her morning routine. She brushed her teeth, hopped into the shower, and wrapped herself in a towel before heading to her closet.
A few days ago, her mom had taken her shopping, picking out clothes that Kylie never would have chosen for herself. Not that she was complaining—her mother had a better sense of style than she did.
After a few moments of indecision, she settled on a pair of light blue high-waisted jeans and a tucked-in white shirt, finishing the look with the white sneakers her brother had gifted her when she returned from summer camp.
Speaking of camp…
It hadn't been terrible. She met a few nice people, but nothing worth writing home about. The worst part had been not seeing her friends for weeks. And even after getting back, they had only met up once.
Kylie shoved the thought aside as she descended the stairs, the rich aroma of breakfast filling the air.
Her mother was at the stove, her fiery red hair tied up in a messy bun. She wore a pink apron that boldly declared, "I'm a bad bitch."
Kylie smirked. Classic Mom.
She walked over and placed a quick kiss on her mother's cheek.
"Morning, Mom," she greeted, sliding onto one of the barstools at the kitchen counter. She pulled out her phone, scrolling through her messages as she waited for breakfast.
[Group Chat]
Mariebear:Let's meet at our usual lunch table.
CC:Why not meet now?
Kylie:R u at school already, Cole?
CC:Yes, I have to organize my locker and figure out where all my classes are.
Mariebear:Nerd.
CC:You're only saying that because you're always unprepared and late for everything.
Mariebear:I bet you 20 dollars you won't say that to my face when I get there.
CC:Deal, you barbarian woman.
Romi:Really, guys? This early?
CC:That barbarian started it.
Angie:I have arrived.😈 Where r u guys?
Kylie:R u also at school? If so, Cole is the only one there.
Mariebear:I see Cole is rubbing off on you, Angie.
CC:This barbarian...
Me:I think we should meet at lunch.
Romi:Roger.
Mariebear:Si.
CC:Ok, and I'm waiting for you, barbarian.
Angie:Cole, where are you? I need company.
[End of Group Chat]
Kylie set her phone down just as her father strode into the kitchen, dressed in one of his many black suits. He moved with quiet efficiency, pressing a quick kiss to her mother's cheek before grabbing a piece of toast from the plate on the counter. He glanced at his watch, already halfway toward the door when—
A hand ruffled her ponytail. Deliberately.
"Dad!" she yelped, immediately reaching up to fix her hair.
Her father only chuckled, the sound deep and amused, as he disappeared out the front door.
Kylie huffed, smoothing her hair back into place.
Her father, Adam, was one of the top lawyers at his firm. Constantly busy, yet he always made time for family. He had a naturally intimidating presence—something her twin brother, Michael, had inherited. Their mother, on the other hand, worked as a manager at a major tech company called Exo Tech. Together, their jobs ensured the family was more than comfortable financially.
Speaking of Michael…
He slid onto the barstool beside her, grey eyes scanning her with an unreadable expression.
Kylie shifted in her seat. "What?"
"Nothing," he muttered, turning his attention to their mother.
Michael had inherited their father's blond hair and strong jawline, his wavy locks falling just past his shoulders. Being a basketball player, he was in peak physical shape, broad-shouldered and well-built. He wasn't much of a talker, preferring actions over words. His habit of keeping a straight face made him hard to read—except for Kylie. She always knew what he was thinking.
Their mother placed their plates in front of them, and both muttered their thanks.
Breakfast was peaceful. Until—
"So, were there any boys at camp you had your eyes on?" their mother suddenly asked, her voice dripping with curiosity.
Kylie nearly choked on her food.
Michael did choke, barely recovering before fixing their mother with a sharp glare.
"She doesn't need a boyfriend," he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Oh, come on," their mother huffed. "You're such a prude. Ooooh, look at her! She's blushing!"
"I-I don't think I need one," Kylie stammered, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.
"Okay, so you don't need one," her mother mused, taking a slow sip of her coffee. "But you never said you didn't want one."
Kylie's face burned even hotter.
Michael sighed, running a hand through his hair. "See? You're making her uncomfortable, Mom."
Their mother pouted dramatically. "It's like both of you inherited Adam's personality. Why couldn't one of you be more like me? It would've been so much fun."
Kylie didn't even want to imagine what their household would be like with another person like their mother in it.
She grabbed her backpack and pressed a quick kiss to her mother's cheek. "Love you," she said before heading outside to Michael's car. She slid into the passenger seat of his sleek black Audi, adjusting the strap of her bag as she waited for him.
Michael joined her moments later, tossing his own bag into the backseat before starting the engine.
As they pulled out of the driveway, her mind drifted to school.
She could never survive high school without her brother and her friends. Their school had clear social divisions—the popular kids who threw insane parties, the skaters, the goths, the music bands, and the people everyone *knew* but didn't necessarily talk to. Kylie fit into the last category.
People only knew her because of Michael.
Michael, who was popular in his own right.
Girls constantly approached her for his number, and while she didn't want to be rude, she hated being used. One girl had even pretended to be her friend just to get close to Michael. Needless to say, her brother was not pleased.
Since then, her friends had taken it upon themselves to turn people away for her, which led to even more insults being thrown her way. It used to make her cry at night—until Michael stepped in.
The car suddenly came to a stop, pulling her from her thoughts.
The back door opened, and Miguel Santiago slid in.
Miguel was on the basketball team with Michael, standing at an impressive 6'3". With his dark curly hair, piercing almost-black eyes, and deep dimples, he was the definition of charming. He was also a notorious partygoer and an even bigger playboy.
"Damn, mami," Miguel whistled. "Kylie, that you?"
His eyes lingered on her chest for a fraction too long before meeting her gaze.
Something about the way he looked at her felt different.
Kylie quickly turned away, pretending not to notice, but she felt his gaze burning into her.
"It seems like you don't need eyes, Miguel," Michael's voice cut through the silence, sharp and cold. "Don't look at my sister like that."
Miguel's smirk faltered slightly.
The tension in the car became thick, the air between them charged with something unreadable.
Michael's grey eyes locked onto Miguel's dark ones, both unwilling to back down.
Kylie fidgeted with her fingers, her nervous energy rising.
"We're going to be late," she murmured, trying to break the heavy silence.
Miguel was the first to look away.
The car began moving again, and Kylie reached for the radio, flipping through stations in search of something to distract herself. She settled on a song that wasn't her favorite but was decent enough.
She hummed along absentmindedly.
Her friends always told her she had a sexy voice, though she had never believed them. But she liked singing, so she practiced whenever she could.
Michael pulled into the school parking lot, easing into his usual spot.
His friends were already there, waiting.
Kylie hesitated, gripping her backpack a little tighter.
Why am I nervous?
She had been going to this school for years. She knew these people.
And yet…
Her heart pounded in her chest, legs shaking slightly. She wasn't sure if it was from anticipation or anxiety.
Just then, a warm hand rested on hers.
She turned to see Michael, offering her a small, reassuring nod.
Something about that simple gesture settled the tension in her chest.
Taking a deep breath, she finally reached for the door handle and stepped out.