"Aria, can you sit down for a second?"

 Aria looked up from her phone.

 Her dad stood in the kitchen doorway, hands in his pockets. He had that look. The one before bad news.

 "What did you do," she said.

 "Nothing. I just want to talk to you about something."

 She set her phone down.

 "Okay."

 He sat across from her. Looked at the table, then at her.

 "You remember Victoria."

 It wasn't really a question. Aria's stomach dropped anyway.

 Of course she remembered Victoria. The woman from his work dinners. The one who laughed too easily at his jokes. The one Aria had quietly noticed months ago and never said anything about, because saying something would make it real.

 "The one from your office thing," Aria said carefully.

 "Yeah."

 He let out a breath.

 "We've actually been together for a while now. Three years."

 "Three years?"

 "I wanted to wait. Until things felt easier for you."

 He reached toward her hand, then pulled back.

 "I should have told you sooner. I know that."

 Three years.

 Three years of family dinners that were supposed to be just the two of them. Movie nights. Sunday pancakes. All while he was somewhere else, with someone else, building a whole different life she knew nothing about.

 She hated that it hurt more than she expected.

 "Okay," Aria said, voice steady. "So why tell me now?"

 He hesitated.

 That hesitation told her everything before he even said it.

 "We're getting married."

 The kitchen went quiet.

 "And," he kept going, faster now, "she has a son. Same age as you. Senior year too. Her work is in LA, so we're moving. All of us."

 Aria laughed. It wasn't a real laugh.

 "You're joking."

 "Aria—"

 "We just got settled here. You said we weren't moving again. You said this was it."

 "I know what I said."

 "Then why are you doing this?"

 "Because I love her."

 He said it simply, like that was the whole answer.

 "And I know you'll love her too, once you get to know her. She's wonderful. And her son—"

 "I don't care about her son."

 "Aria."

 "No."

 She stood up too fast. The chair scraped the floor.

 "I have a life here. Friends. Dance. I have—"

 "You'll make new friends. New dance team. It's LA."

 "That's not the point."

 He stood too. Put a hand on her shoulder, gentle, the way he used to when she was small and scared of thunder.

 "I know this is a lot," he said. "I know it's not fair. Just give her a chance. Okay?"

 Aria stared at his hand on her shoulder.

 Three years of secrets, just sitting there between them.

 "When do we move," she said finally.

 "Three weeks."

 "Three weeks?"

 "I know."

 "Dad."

 "I know, Aria."

 He squeezed her shoulder, then let go.

 "I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner. I was scared telling you would change things."

 "It already changed," she said quietly. "You just didn't tell me until now."

 He didn't have an answer for that. She didn't expect one.

 She walked past him, down the hall, into her room. Closed the door — not slammed, just closed — and stood with her back against it, breathing.

 Three weeks.

 Three weeks to pack up an entire life. Say goodbye to her school, her friends, the dance studio she had been in since she was twelve.

 She sat at her desk and pulled her laptop toward her.

 Victoria Hollis.

 Professional photos. An interior design portfolio. A beautiful house in Los Angeles with clean lines and big windows.

 Then, a few photos down — a family event. Victoria in a green dress, laughing at something off camera.

 And beside her, a guy.

 Tall. Dark hair, slightly messy in a way that looked effortless. An easy grin, the kind that probably worked on everyone. One arm slung loose around his mom's shoulders like he owned the room.

 Cayden Hollis, the caption said. So proud of my boy — varsity captain, straight A's, and somehow still humble. Mostly.

 Aria stared at the photo.

 Senior year. Same age. New school, new house, new brother.

 She zoomed in, just a little.

 He looked like the type of guy who never had to try. The type who walked into a room and the room just rearranged itself around him.

 She closed the laptop.

 "Great," she muttered. "Can't wait."

The moving truck pulled away before Aria even got out of the car.

She stared up at the house.

White walls. Huge windows. A door that probably cost more than her old apartment's rent for a year.

"It's a lot, I know," Dad said, killing the engine. "But you'll get used to it."

She didn't answer.

The front door opened before they reached it. Victoria stepped out, smiling so wide it looked like it hurt.

"You must be Aria."

She pulled her into a hug before Aria could decide whether she wanted one. She smelled like jasmine and something expensive.

"I'm so happy you're here. Really."

"Thanks," Aria said, because what else was there to say.

Inside, the house smelled like fresh paint and flowers someone had bought just for today. Everything was bright and open and too much. Too clean. Too big. Too perfect.

It didn't feel like home. It felt like a magazine spread.

"Cayden!" Victoria called up the stairs. "Come say hi to Aria!"

A pause.

Then footsteps. Slow. Unhurried. Like he had somewhere better to be and was choosing not to go there yet.

He came down the stairs in a gray hoodie, hair slightly messy, phone in one hand. He looked up.

And stopped.

For half a second, something flickered across his face.

Then it was gone, replaced by an easy, lazy smile. The kind that probably worked on everyone.

"So you're the new sister."

He said it like he was testing the word, seeing how it tasted.

"Step," Aria said flatly. "Not the same thing."

His eyebrows lifted slightly. Like he hadn't expected that.

"Cute," he said, and there was nothing in his tone that said he meant it as a compliment.

Victoria laughed, oblivious.

"You two are going to get along so well."

Neither of them said anything to that.

Daniel and Victoria disappeared into the kitchen, already talking about dinner plans, furniture, next week we should all — their voices fading into easy chatter, like this was already normal.

Aria grabbed the handle of her suitcase.

"I'll show you your room," Cayden said, not quite looking at her. "Since apparently that's my job now."

"I can find a room by myself."

"It's at the end of the hall. Next to mine."

He started up the stairs without waiting.

"Try not to get lost in the seven seconds it takes to walk there."

She followed him anyway. Mostly because she had no idea where the stairs even led.

The hallway upstairs was lined with framed photos. Victoria and Cayden at the beach. Victoria and Cayden at some gala. Cayden in a varsity jacket holding a trophy, grinning like he'd never lost at anything in his life.

Probably hadn't.

He stopped outside a door and pushed it open with two fingers, stepping back just enough to let her see inside.

The room was bigger than her old one. A bed already made. A desk by the window. Boxes stacked neatly in the corner — her stuff, already moved in by someone else's hands.

"Nice view," he said, nodding toward the window. "You can see the whole neighborhood from up here."

"I'm not into knowing everyone's business."

"Sure you're not."

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her step inside like he was waiting for a reaction. A gasp. A thank you. Anything.

She set her suitcase down. Looked around. Said nothing.

His easy expression cracked, just slightly.

"You're really not going to say anything?"

"About what?"

"The room. The house. Any of it."

"It's a nice room."

She walked past him toward the window, not looking at him again.

"Thanks for showing me. You can go now."

For a second he just stood there.

She could feel him still in the doorway. That specific kind of attention — the kind that meant someone was staring and hadn't decided to stop yet.

It annoyed her more than it should have.

"Most people are a little more grateful," he said slowly, "when someone's being nice to them."

"Is this you being nice?"

She glanced back.

"Could've sworn that was you being bored."

Something shifted behind his eyes. Not quite annoyance. Something closer to interest.

He pushed off the doorframe and took a step into the room. Slow. Easy.

"You're going to be fun," he said. Not a compliment. Almost a warning.

"I wasn't trying to be."

"That's what makes it funnier."

He was close enough now that she had to tip her head back slightly to keep looking at him. Close enough that she noticed, annoyingly, that he smelled like cedar and something clean.

She didn't step back.

That surprised him. She could tell.

"Goodnight, Cayden," she said, and reached past him to push the door.

He caught it. Held it open with one hand, looking down at her, that dangerous half-smile still in place.

"Goodnight, step-sister."

He said the word like it was a joke between them. Like he already knew it wouldn't stick.

Then he let go and walked off down the hall, hands in his pockets, like none of it mattered at all.

Aria shut the door.

Hard.

She stood there for a long moment afterward, staring at the wood grain.

Her heart was doing something it had absolutely no business doing.

She hated that too.

Westbrook High looked exactly like Aria expected.

Big. Loud. Full of people who already knew each other.

She walked through the front doors alone, schedule in one hand, head up. Like she'd done this a hundred times before.

Even if her stomach was doing something else entirely.

She hated that part. The stomach part.

Heads turned as she passed.

A few girls whispered. A guy nearly walked into a locker watching her go by. Aria kept walking like she hadn't noticed any of it.

Across the hallway, Cayden was leaning against a locker with two guys, mid conversation. He glanced up.

And stopped talking.

His jaw tightened, just slightly, watching the way the whole hallway shifted around her without her doing a single thing.

"Yo."

One of his friends nudged him.

"You good?"

"Fine."

Cayden didn't look away.

"That's the new sister, right?"

The friend grinned.

"Damn, she's—"

"Step," Cayden said. Too fast. "And don't finish that sentence."

His friend raised both hands, still grinning.

Aria found her locker without asking anyone for help. She was still figuring out the combination when a guy appeared beside her, easy smile already in place.

"Hey. You're new, right?"

"That obvious?"

He laughed.

"I'm Marcus."

"Aria."

"Nice to meet you, Aria."

His smile widened.

"I can show you around if you want. Help you find your classes."

"She's fine."

Cayden's voice came from behind her, smooth and unbothered, like he'd always been standing there.

Aria turned.

He was right there, one shoulder against the locker next to hers, looking at Marcus like he'd just said something mildly interesting.

"She's my stepsister," Cayden added. "She's got it covered."

Marcus blinked.

"Oh. Didn't know you had a—"

"New thing." Cayden shrugged. "Anyway."

"I can actually speak for myself," Aria said, looking between them. "Thanks though, Marcus. I'll figure it out."

Marcus gave her a small smile.

"Sure. See you around."

He walked off.

Cayden watched him go for half a second longer than necessary.

Aria turned to face him fully.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"You know what."

She kept her voice low.

"I don't need you doing that."

"Doing what?"

He looked genuinely confused, which was somehow more annoying than if he'd looked smug.

"I was just standing here."

"You were just standing here," she repeated flatly.

"Exactly."

She stared at him.

He stared back. Calm. Patient. Like he had absolutely nowhere else to be.

"I don't need a babysitter, Cayden."

That one landed. She could see it — just barely — in the way something flickered behind his eyes.

"Wasn't trying to be one," he said.

"Good."

She turned back to her locker.

"Then we're on the same page."

He stayed exactly where he was for another second. Then pushed off the locker and walked back toward his friends, hands in his pockets, like none of it had mattered at all.

Jordan was waiting with a look on his face.

"She seems pretty cool, actually—"

"She's difficult," Cayden said. "Trust me."

"You've known her for like two days."

"Long two days."

Jordan and Eli exchanged a look. The kind that said they weren't fully buying it but weren't going to push. Yet.

The bell rang.

Aria headed toward her first class without looking back.

Cayden's eyes followed her all the way down the hall until she turned the corner and disappeared.

"Dude."

Eli's voice was quiet.

"You're staring."

"I'm not staring."

Cayden grabbed his bag.

"I'm just making sure she finds her class."

"Right." Jordan nodded slowly. "Big brother stuff."

"Step," Cayden said.

Jordan smiled and said absolutely nothing else.

But as they walked toward class, he caught Eli's eye behind Cayden's back.

Eli just shrugged.

They'd both seen it. Neither of them had an explanation for it yet.

By lunch, the whole school already seemed to know who Aria was. The new girl. Cayden Hollis's stepsister. Pretty. Didn't seem to care that people were watching her.

Aria sat with a girl named Priya who had offered the seat with a simple —

"You look like you don't want to sit alone and honestly same."

Aria liked her immediately.

Across the cafeteria, Cayden sat at his usual table, surrounded by people, laughing at something someone said. Easy. Relaxed. The version of him the whole school apparently knew.

He didn't look over at her once.

Which was fine, Aria told herself.

Exactly what she wanted.

So she couldn't explain why she kept noticing it anyway.