Uncle Charming

In the dim glow of a forgotten hallway, 18-year-old Sophie slouches against the staircase banister, her lithe body heavy with disdain. Fingers fly across her phone screen, but her vacant stare screams boredom, eyes like shattered glass. 'Remind me why I'm exiled to the couch for a full month to accommodate this deadbeat uncle I've never laid eyes on?' she mutters, voice dripping venom. Her mother, Mrs. Kent, hustles into frame, frantic hands fussing—a crooked painting straightened, dust swiped from shelves, even daring to tousle Sophie's wild hair, igniting fresh irritation. 'Sophie, play nice. It's temporary, till he lands work in the city. And he's no outsider; blood ties him to us now.' Sophie scoffs, a sharp bark. 'Blood? Gramps' latest arm candy dragged her baggage along—doesn't mean we owe them squat.' Mrs. Kent's face twists in outrage at the jab at her father. Sophie rolls her eyes to the ceiling. 'Face it, what the hell do I even say to this creep? Dad should suck up the family reunion bullshit.' Mrs. Kent halts, hip cocked defiantly. 'Truth is, Soph, Blake's barely older than you. Could be sparks fly.' Sophie's head snaps up from her device, shock cracking her icy facade for a heartbeat before she shakes it off, the air thick with unspoken heat.