The Christmas party hums through our suburban house, a chaotic symphony of laughter and clinking glasses, the air heavy with pine and sugar. I’m nineteen, home from college, dodging relatives and their endless questions about my major. But my mind’s elsewhere, tangled up in Kylie — my eighteen-year-old sister, whose teasing smiles and lingering touches have haunted me since last summer’s forbidden moments in the guest room. Tonight, under the glow of twinkling lights, her presence pulls at me like a current, and I know the festive chaos is just a backdrop for something reckless waiting to unfold.