3. Sophie
3
SOPHIE
“ O kay, but do I look good enough to date our daughter level cute?”
Leni, who has been the main target of Honor’s holiday packing induced freakout, looks helplessly over at me from the corner of the couch. Even from across the room, I can spot an unspoken plea for help.
I set the last breakfast plate in the dishwasher and close it with a resigned sigh. “You look awesome, Honor. They’re going to love you.”
Honor, who is stationed in front of the floor-length mirror in the living room, twists to examine the effect of her travel ensemble on her butt. “You think?” she frets, tugging at the hem of her pullover. She met her girlfriend, Riley, senior year of college, and they’ve been doing the long-distance thing for the last year.
Riley is pretty aggressively fine, but my opinion might be skewed thanks to whatever psychological condition I have that’s responsible for my taste in romantic partners. I’m in no position to judge anyone, and Honor’s girlfriend of two years, while a little too into herself, is at least age appropriate. As an added benefit, the two share no connections which would have every easily outraged grandma in the world clutching her pearls.
“Honor. What’s not to like? You’re hot, smart, and bake a mean banana bread.” I laugh, even while wishing the sharp ache in the center of my chest would back off already. Though I totally tried, it turns out Tylenol does not work for emotional pain.
Thankfully, my friend is oblivious to my inner misery because she turns to offer me and Leni an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m being like this.”
Leni curls her legs up on the couch, frowning at Honor. She’s also dressed to travel, the bedding she’s been using to crash in our living room is folded neatly beside her, and her suitcase ispacked by the door. Since her train doesn’t leave for a few hours, she’ll be hanging out here for the morning. “Is everything okay with you and Riley?” she asks cautiously.
Honor’s shoulders stiffen for a fraction of a second before she turns back to us, smiling. “Of course! Never better. I just feel bad leaving Dad on his own for Christmas. He says he has plans, though.”
Plans? Bram has plans for Christmas? What plans?
Do they include the woman he was on a date with the night of the incident (as it shall henceforth be known)? I’ve never seen her at the office, but that means nothing. Maybe they’ve been going out for months, and I’m deranged enough to read into every interaction we have, imagining something is there that isn’t.
Abruptly reaching the end of my patience with myself, I snatch my phone from the counter. “What was that kinky dating app you were telling me about, Leni?” I demand, already opening the App Store.
My roommate and her sister stare at me, bemused. “ YUM? I think?” says Leni, frowning at this abrupt change in topic. “I haven’t tried it or anything.”
Of course, she wouldn’t need to. While Honor takes after their mother, Leni looks a lot like a tiny, perfect ballerina version of Bram. Her utter disinterest in dating only makes men fawn over her all the more.
I’m attractive, too, though. I have options, and it’s about time I explore them.
I find the app immediately and press download with no further investigation. Enough of this shit. For over a year, I’ve completely shut down any other romantic options, staying totally faithful to a man who may or may not have any interest in me, and I couldn’t date even if he did. A man who I now know is dating someone else and possibly spending Christmas with her.
If I wait for myself to get over Bram, it won’t happen. I’ll spend the rest of my days pining away and buy the cemetery plot next to his so I can carry on after I’m dead. That’s a level of pathetic even I’m not comfortable with, and now it’s time to drop-kick myself back out into the dating pool.
Ready or not, here I come on dicks that don’t belong to my best friend’s father.
“Use that picture of you at the beach from last summer,” Honor advises as she fiddles with her ponytail, tilting her chin this way and that to examine the effect in the mirror.
“Why are you so nervous about this?” I ask, grateful for something to think about that has nothing to do with Bram (except half his genes).
Honor’s hands drop back to her sides, and she crosses to the carry-on bags standing ready beside Leni’s. Her shuttle to the airport leaves in twenty minutes, and I won’t see her again until after the holidays.
“Riley’s family is like… super rich. I mean, our parents have both done really well for themselves, but there’s normal pe ople having money, and then there’s multi-zillionaire kind of money. It’s different, you know?” She looks so nervous, and I hate that.
“Honor, if they don’t like you because you don’t have an eight-digit trust fund, they’re not worth your time. And if Riley doesn’t have your back, neither is she.”
Leni bobs her head in agreement. “If they give you a hard time, just leave. Impressing them isn’t worth your self-esteem or mental health.”
Honor seems to shake herself, giving us a grateful, if strained, smile. “You’re both right. Of course. I’m going to head down to the lobby.”
After a round of hugs and promises to text while we’re apart, I retreat to my bedroom and flop back on the bed, staring at the ceiling without really seeing it.
Downloading that app was impulsive, but it needed to be done. Honor has been nothing but an amazing friend to me. While I’m not clear on where one gets an official copy of the girl code, it seems like “thou shall not covet thy bestie’s hot dad” would be pretty high on that list.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I open the new app at the corner of my screen, wishing I felt even a little excited as I do.
YUM…
What Are You Into?
I snort, scrolling further to read the description.
Why waste time going on dates with someone, only to learn that they yuck your yum? With YUM you’re only given matches who share your yums. Get started today !
Leni’s brief description of the app over dinner a few days ago barely caught my interest, but with Bram’s new girlfriend, the incident, and a fresh wave of crippling guilt over breaking the girl code, this seems like an ideal solution.
With a quick check of the time to make sure I don’t have to leave for work yet, I press the button to create an account. After the basic age range, geographic vicinity, and pronouns stuff, a long checklist pops up on the screen, and my belly twists as I scroll down the list of kinks, fetishes, and other qualifiers.
The app is… thorough. Way more than I expected it to be. There are dozens of check marks and follow-ups, questioning how important it is that a future partner shares that particular desire on a scale from one to five.
I really doubt I’m going to meet my soulmate on an app called YUM, but that’s a good thing. I probably check way more “interested in exploring” boxes than necessary, but the whole point of this is to get out of my comfort zone. Apart from a few brief relationships in college, I haven’t exactly had the opportunity to find out what I like or don’t.
Taking Honor’s advice, I use the picture from our beach trip last summer, which features me beaming at the camera, posing in front of the ocean in a baseball cap and electric blue bikini that leaves little to the imagination and makes it pretty clear I won the genetic boob lottery.
Damn, good for me.
When I get to the last registration page, it’s time to leave for work and I’m filled with a savage, defiant pleasure as I hit create account.
Screw Bram—metaphorically, of course—and his stupid, handsome face and his stupid, amazing personality. The also obviously amazing Rebecca can keep him. I might not be the most well-adjusted flower on the wall, but I’m young and reasonably attractive. Somebody out there is going to want to have some weird sex with me.
Six-months-from-now Sophie is going to look back at this self-destructive phase and laugh. Probably with an awesome, grown-up hobby like golf or growing recreational marijuana in her closet. Not masturbating to thoughts of crawling under Honor’s father’s desk and letting him fuck her mouth. No way. She’s so much classier than that. I bet she can tell the difference between a Riesling and a cabernet and everything.
Comforted by the promise of a superior Sophie on the horizon, I duck out of my room, almost running headlong into Leni in the short hallway that leads to the main living area. “Shit, sorry.” I step around her, but she calls after me.
“What were you talking about the other night? When you were drunk?”
I wince, and my stomach twists uncomfortably as I look back at her, careful to keep my expression impassive. “What did I say?”
Leni frowns. “You said your type was unavailable. Did you meet someone?”
My stomach plummets right through the laminate wood floor. Shit. I forgot about that. “No idea.”
“That’s what you’re going with?” she asks mildly, lifting her eyebrows.
I swallow. “Yup.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.” I turn on my heel, striding for the door to the apartment, my uneven pulse pumping adrenaline through my veins. I’m jittery and on edge, my breath shaking as I stop before the elevator, gazing at my pale reflection in the gleaming chrome.
It’s a very surreal experience when something that’s only ever lived inside your head, my feelings for Bram for instance, are suddenly out there in the world. It becomes real. Leni is smart. She wouldn’t have asked those questions if she hadn’t already put together part of the puzzle.
Does she know who I was talking about?
Is she going to tell Honor?
I haven’t done anything, though. It’s not like I can control how I feel, and by the looks of it, Bram has absolutely no interest in me and is dating another woman. Would she stop being friends with me over her sister suspecting I’m into their dad?
If she asked me flat out, would I be able to hide it?
The elevator doors slide open and I step inside, fingers fumbling to do up the buttons on my coat. I only live two blocks from the office, which is convenient, except for a solid eight weeks in the dead of winter when it feels like my limbs are going to fall off for the duration of the ten-minute walk.
As I cross the lobby, bracing myself for the inevitable deep freeze, I’m totally unprepared for the sight of a tall, broad-shouldered man standing on the curb, a knit cap pulled low over his ears, leaning against an expensive-looking black SUV that is double-parked in front of the building.
I stop short, staring at Bram as a strange ringing sound fills my ears, and although I haven’t stepped outside yet, my muscles feel rigid as I push open the door.
Bram watches me, unmoving, as I stop five feet away from him. “Honor already left. Like half an hour ago,” I report, trying to sound casual and unruffled, when I am, in fact, extremely un-casual and very ruffled.
Bram nods. “I know. She texted me on her way to the airport.”
I blink, scrambling for another explanation for him to just be standing here. “Um, Leni is upstairs? I don’t think she’s expecting you, though.”
He doesn’t look surprised by this information. “Yes, she’s going to stop by the office to say goodbye on her way to the train station. I’m here to give you a ride to work.”
My mouth is dry, and I stare at him, grappling with this disconcerting and unprecedented turn of events. “Not to sound ungrateful or anything… but, um, why?”
In way of response to this perfectly legitimate question, Bram pulls open the passenger door and stares at me expectantly. When I don’t move, he sighs. “It’s cold out, Sophie. Get in the car.”
I get in the car.
The inside is cozy and warm, all dark leather and Christmas music playing quietly on the radio. Most of the staff, Bram included, park in the garage across the street from E&V, so I’ve never actually seen his car. It looks just as fancy and expensive as everything in Bram’s life.
Meanwhile, I am wearing practical but ugly winter boots, a hat Honor knitted me, and a coat I picked up on the sale rack at a discount store in April.
What is he doing here?
“Are you cold?” asks Bram as he closes the driver’s side door, not looking at me as he pulls off his gloves and sets them in the center console.
“Um.” I blink rapidly, staring at the sparse snowflakes swirling outside the windshield. “No?”
It comes out like a question because every other thing in my head right now is a question, but before I know it, Bram is reaching over to adjust something on the dashboard screen. “Seat warmer,” he explains, offering me a lopsided smile that makes my stomach swoop.
“Bram,” I begin as he puts the car in drive and pulls back out onto the street, “why are you giving me a ride to work?”
He doesn’t answer at first, too busy adjusting the temperature controls, so I’m blasted right in the face with hot air. At this rate, I’ll be sweating before we get to the office. Finally, when we’re turning onto the street where E&V is located, he speaks. “I didn’t like the idea of you walking in the snow.”
“It’s barely snowing! The storm won’t hit until late tonight!” I gesture incredulously to the occasional fluffy snowflake drifting down from the gray sky. We’re already close after two minutes in the car. I can see the marble columns of the office from here. Unable to help myself, I turn to look at him, taking in the lines of his handsome profile.
Something deep inside me seems to clench, pulling into itself, as I’m smacked with yet another reminder of how attracted to him I am. Everything about the man is perfect, and while I’ve decided to get past these feelings by any means necessary, my body obviously hasn’t gotten the memo, because seeing his face is enough to make my panties wet.
Like… really wet.
Bram only hums, craning his neck to make sure there’s nobody heading for the crosswalk before we pull into the parking garage. “Humor me.”
Confused, frustrated, and horny, I slump back in my seat, staring straight ahead as my surprise carpool driver claims the reserved parking spot with his name on it. We don’t speak as we get out, the heavy thud of our doors echoing off the ceiling in the cavernous cement space.
“Are you going anywhere for Christmas?” he asks as we set off again, walking side by side toward the street.
My heart sinks. “Yeah. To see family.” It’s a lie. This Christmas, just like every Christmas since I turned eighteen, will be spent alone. Unfortunately for Bram, he is thevery last person I want knowing that. So we’re going to keep with my long-established custom of lying my ass off whenever this topic comes up. “What about you?” I ask politely. ”Honor mentioned that you have plans.”
I’m pretty proud of myself for keeping my tone casual. Not like I’m about to puke on his shoes all over again at the mental image of Bram and Rebecca cozied up beside the Christmas tree in matching pj’s.
“Yes. Spending it with friends.”
We don’t speak again, and Bram sticks close to my side all the way across the street. He opens the door to the office and stands back, allowing me into the lobby. Nearly the moment I set foot on the shiny marble floor, a male voice calls down to me from halfway up one of the sweeping marble staircases.
“Sophie! Glad I caught you.”
Behind me, I hear what sounds like a low growl, as the tall, handsome blond man descends the marble staircase toward me. Holden Ellinger, the E of E&V, looks more suited to male modeling than architecture. Most of the women in the office are nursing crushes on him, but beyond the obvious appeal, he isn’t my type.
“Hey, Holden.” I pause, hyper-aware of Bram hovering just behind me. “What’s up?”
He stops in front of us, smile widening. “Vincent called in sick, and we have a pitch at two. Would you mind looking at the print, see if there’s anything you can do to help? Join Team Ellinger for the day?”
“Of course,” I agree instantly, eager to get away from Bram. “Nothing I have is pressing.”
There’s a noise of protest from behind me. “I need Sophie today.”
Holden arches his eyebrows skeptically. “It’s the bid for the new library. I feel as though that should take precedence, don’t you?”
“No. I don’t,” Bram grunts. “Besides, that work should have been completed days ago.”
“Well, if you weren’t hogging the only decent printing engineer, maybe it would have been.” His tone drips with amusement. “Come on, Bram. You have my word she’ll be returned with all limbs intact. ”
I glance over my shoulder, and a weight drops into my lower belly when I find Bram already looking at me. “I really don’t have a ton to do today. Stuff has kind of fizzled out in the run-up to the holidays…” I trail off, staring at him, unsure of how to proceed.
He’s being so weird today. What the hell is going on? I thought we were back to normal after the incident. Does he think I’m losing my shit, and this is some kind of platonic show of protectiveness? Gag.
After an age, Bram nods stiffly and tears his eyes from my face to look at his business partner. “She’s my employee, Holden. Don’t forget it.”