Deeper (The Deeper Chronicles #1) by Allyn Lesley

drawn-out morning, she was going straight home, burrowing her head under the covers, and praying she would dream of a time when dirt and guilt weren’t part of her vocabulary. Even through the phone, Sofie was a persistent little thing, and her next text message gushed about them hanging out at “the best crêpe restaurant in the city” .
    But Avi didn’t care. She fired off a final response, her steps lighter when she heard the bellowed, “Next,” and it was her turn.
     

     
    “I can’t believe you,” Avi muttered, sliding down. She didn’t want to get used to the feel of the cushy seat under her, because she wasn’t staying. Any minute now, she was going to stand up and figure out which one of the city’s confounded trains would take her from Tribeca back to Harlem.
    She continued fuming when she remembered how she’d strolled down her block, only to find Joe helping Sofie from the back of a car. Avi had considered turning around—it would be more like running—but Sofie had to possess superhuman sight that allowed her to see through Joe. It was too late, and Avi was face-to-face with the woman who’d squealed and clapped her hands in excitement, pushing her inside the car.
    “Will you relax?” Sofie begged. Avi blinked, coming back to the present. “I’m still deciding what to get.” Her pushy friend tapped a polished finger near her mouth.
    It was hopeless. Sofie wasn’t paying attention and was unconcerned that Avi didn’t want to be here. Even though here was an intimate bistro with cute, beret-wearing servers. The women were dressed in fitted black shirts and matching pants, while the sole male attendant wore a stripped black and white long-sleeved shirt with black pants. It was like Avi was an extra in Audrey Hepburn’s classic movie Funny Face .
    “Sofie,” she growled.
    Her friend’s beaming face and smiling eyes greeted Avi’s sour features, which drooped under the other woman’s cheerfulness.
    “Yes,” Sofie drawled out.
    “I have things to do.” Knowing Sofie, she’d need to give solid reasons when she stood and left. Avi wracked her brain for something that wasn’t necessarily a lie. “There’s my laundry I’ve been meaning to do, next week’s lesson plans—”
    Sofie rolled her eyes, cutting short her list. “You have to live in the moment. Sit back, take your damn jacket off for goodness’ sake, and allow your friend to introduce you to Manhattan.” Sofie went back to perusing the menu.
    Avi’s hand loosened her belt with reluctance. She shouldn’t sit back, unwind, or relax. The memory from the post office rushed back to her. She was dirty...she’d caused dirt.
    “Woot. Woot.” Sofie shimmied in her seat, drawing a half-smile from Avi. Without doing much, she was able to get Avi to be the young woman she was, even though Avi kicked and screamed all the way. “I know what I want. What are you getting?” Sofie slapped down the laminated menu on top of the table.
    Avi’s eyes landed on the large blackboard on a back wall filled with handwritten, mouth-watering choices like ham and cheese, Nutella, apricot jam, and...
    That can’t be salted caramel, can it? She licked her lips in anticipation. Then her sight landed on Sofie’s bent head. She hated to admit her friend was right. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “I shouldn’t be so...”
    “Are you looking for a word that rhymes with witchy?” Avi heard the smile in Sofie’s voice just as her friend’s head popped up and the server arrived. “Hello, good looking.” The little charmer didn’t hesitate to pull out all the stops. “I’m going to have the butter and sugar crêpe.” But then a frown replaced her grin. “I didn’t see a wine menu. Don’t you guys have anything stronger than Perrier and juices?”
    Avi squinted at Sofie’s inquisitive gaze.
    “No. I’m sorry.”
    “Well, that won’t do—”
    “She’s joking.” At least, she better be. Not knowing what had brought on that question,