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Kenna James picks at her lunch, shoulders slouched, jaw tight. She just hit eighteen and can’t wait to cut loose for college. London River watches her from across the table and asks if she’ll miss the family. Kenna rolls her eyes, says no. London tries again, tells her the house will feel empty without her. Kenna shrugs, mumbles something about Dad keeping her step-mom company, then shoves back her chair and leaves before London can answer. Later London passes Kenna’s room, sees the wreckage on the floor, steps in to clean. The laptop sits open on the bed. Curiosity pulls her closer. Tab after tab glows on the screen: older women with younger girls, soft voices calling each other Mommy. London stares, feels heat climb up her neck. She snaps it shut, heart pounding. A few hours later she climbs the stairs again and pushes into Kenna’s room. Kenna looks up, already defensive. London doesn’t waste time. “I saw the porn.” Kenna opens her mouth to deny it, but London talks over her, says Kenna should stick with girls her own age, that older women can take what they want. Kenna’s answer comes quick and sharp—she’d rather have her step-mom show her what to expect than risk someone else. They already share a roof, already share a name. No one’s taking advantage here. London swallows, eyes drifting over Kenna’s bare legs. She wants to say no. She doesn’t. She steps in, pulls Kenna up, and kisses her hard. If anyone’s going to fuck the girl before college, it’s going to be her.