Never piss off your sister
Calvin placed a hand on his hip and leaned against the wooden railing of the farmhouse porch, his body—curvaceous and still unfamiliar—clad in a short, spaghetti-strap dress. The blue floral fabric clung to his skin in the late-afternoon heat, accentuating his silhouette, narrow waist, and thighs—parts of his body he still didn't quite know how to conceal. His long, dark, fringed hair cascaded over his shoulders as he gazed at his son, who sat on the bench looking sullen, his eyes fixed blankly on the ground.