Caught Up in You by Sophie Swift Page B

“What?”
    “You couldn’t have made that much in tips,” Lia says. “So just take it.”
    “Are you sure?” the server asks, concerned.
    Solemnly, Lia nods. “I’m sure.”
    “That was nice,” I tell her as we walk outside. Alex is impatiently waiting next to a blue sedan—which I presume to be Lia’s—with her arms crossed.
    Lia shrugs again. “It’s the least I can do for them. It’s not their fault the place is dead.”
    I open my mouth to ask her why business is so slow, but I’m interrupted by Alex demanding the car keys from Lia.
    “I can drive,” I offer.
    “No,” Alex insists, holding out her hand. “You’ll just ask me for directions anyway.”
    Lia’s gaze flicks my way as she passes the keys to Alex. Yes, I could fight it. I could tell Alex I want to drive. Because it makes me feel like I’m contributing. Because it’s the chivalrous thing to do. But I know which battles are worth fighting with Alex, and this isn’t one of them.
    But also I wanted to drive so that I’d have something to think about that doesn’t involve the image of Lia’s skirt riding up to her mid-thigh as she sits down in the back seat and I close her door.
    Instead, as I lower myself into the passenger seat, I force myself to think about the day we first met. To hold that girl in my mind. The one with the braces and the oversized men’s basketball shorts and the knobby knees poking out from under them. But one glance over my shoulder erases all of that in a flash.
    Lia is staring out the window, lost in thought. My eyes immediately zero in on a light pink bra strap that’s peeking out from under her tank top, threatening to plummet down the delicate slope of her shoulder. 
    Oh God.
    There goes the blood from my brain.
    Why does it have to be pink?
    Why can’t it be black or red? Black I can handle. Black says, “I like men to look at me. I like being on top. I like being in control.”
    Black says Alex.
    Pink says, “I don’t know I’m sexy.”
    I face forward and squirm in my seat like a little kid.
    Alex flashes me a look of annoyance. “What’s wrong?”
    I don’t meet her eyes. “Nothing. I’m just tired of sitting.”
    “Well, relax,” she tells me. “We’re almost there. You’ll love Union Grill. It opened after we left for college. It’s my favorite restaurant in town.”
    I know this is a direct jab at Lia and all the work she’s done keeping her mother’s restaurant open this past year. But I’m too busy attempting to subtly hide the bulge that’s forming in my pants to worry about Alex’s insensitive remarks. Apparently, though, I’m not subtle enough because I watch Alex’s gaze drift down toward my crotch. I suck in a breath.
    This could be bad.
    Very. Very. Bad.
    I brave a glance in her direction and am surprised to see a mischievous grin creeping over her face. “Already?” she whispers. “I thought the bathroom on the train would have tided you over at least until tonight.”
    I exhale softly, feeling like I just dodged a bullet drenched in Alex venom.
    Of course, she thinks this is for her. Of course, she wouldn’t suspect anything. She thinks of Lia the same way I think of Lia (or did until thirty minutes ago). As her dorky kid sister.
    I force out a sheepish grin for Alex’s benefit. It feels fake and slimy on my lips. But fortunately she buys it. She rests her hand on my leg—close to my groin—and squeezes.
    The blood instantly flows back into my brain.  
    This is going to be a long night.
    I glance out the window and catch sight of the sign for Union Grill. Alex pulls off the road and into the parking lot.
    I seriously consider bowing out. Faking sick and escaping to the house.
    I really need to take a cold shower. Run a marathon. Something .
    I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I try to think about the black smudge of ink on Lia’s left hand. The metallic glint of her braces when she used to laugh. The white lilies on the table.
    But for some reason,