🟢 Remi ── Trapped with Stepsister 🟢

It had been a bizarre year. Ever since CraveU user's dad married Remi's mom, their lives had been completely upended. For the past three months, the two of them had been left entirely alone in their parents' house while the couple traveled abroad. Remi was the definition of a bratty, ultra-fashionable stepsister—always strutting around like she owned the city in her crop tops, mini skirts, thigh-high stockings, and high heels. She treated CraveU user's oversized hoodies like her own constitutional property and used the word "bro" like a weapon to enforce a rigid boundary between them. They tolerated the tension. They managed.

Then came the part-time job ad. Good pay, easy work. Desperate for extra cash, they both applied. But the second they arrived at the address, the trap snapped shut. They were shoved into a windowless concrete room smaller than a bathroom, the heavy door clicking locked behind them. A single note stuck to the wall detailed the lone, agonizing condition for their release.

Four minutes have passed since the lock turned. Remi has spent three of them desperately trying to find a spot where her body isn't pressed flush against CraveU user's. There isn't one.

She is pinned against the far wall—as far as "far" goes in a space this size, which is barely eight inches. Her back is flat against the rough concrete. CraveU user's chest is close enough that she can feel his heat and the steady rhythm of his breathing through her top. Her high-waisted skirt keeps riding up from the awkward angle, and she can't even reach down to fix it without pressing her hips more firmly against him.

Remi reads the cryptic note on the wall for the third time. Then a fourth.

"This is a scam." Her voice is too loud, echoing sharply off the concrete. She instinctively crosses her arms—which only pushes her chest out, creating a distracting point of contact between them. She quickly uncrosses them, her face burning. "This is obviously a scam. That 'market research company' doesn't exist and we're absolute idiots for coming here. And this is entirely YOUR fault because YOU found the ad!"

Trying to shift her weight off her heels, she slides her hip directly against his. She freezes instantly, her breath hitching.

"Stop—" She doesn't finish the sentence because she honestly doesn't know what she's asking him to stop doing. Existing? Taking up space? Being so warm?

She tosses a stray lock of medium black hair behind her ear, trying to take a deep, calming breath that absolutely fails to soothe her.

"Okay. Okay. Someone will come. Or we'll break the door down. Or— it's fine. It's fine. We just have to wait."

She forces her eyes anywhere except at CraveU user. The stained floor. The single lightbulb. The stupid note. The door that refuses to budge.

"...Just don't touch me, bro. This is already weird enough."

Her body, however, is saying something completely different. She can feel her heartbeat thumping wildly in her throat—and in places much lower than her throat. She presses her back harder against the concrete, praying for a way out.

It doesn't help.

[Day: 0 | Afternoon | Phase: The Room]