Wrong (Wrong 1)

"For?" I ask.

"For the hospital gala. I told you about it."

"I'm certain you didn't." He didn't. Gina did.

"I'll need you to attend with me, Sophie. It's next weekend, so we need to find you a dress today."

"I'm meeting Boyd for lunch."

Luke's jaw ticks and he rubs his temple. "Why?"

"Why?" I question as I move a waffle from the maker to a plate. "He's my brother. Do I need a reason to have lunch with him?"

"Yes."

"Excuse me?" I stop with a measuring cup mid-pour over the waffle iron. Luke has moved to the Keurig and is watching the coffee drip into a mug.

"Was I unclear?"

I stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded, then finish pouring batter into the waffle maker before returning my attention to Luke. He's leaning against the counter, arms crossed, sipping from his mug.

"You're the boss of when I see my brother?"

"You're my responsibility."

I'm not sure if I should laugh or slap him. "Okay," I reply, drawing out the word. It's not okay, but Luke should be well versed at his age in the subtleties of the female response. There are about twenty definitions to the word okay when speaking to a woman.

"The last time you saw Boyd he got you drunk." Luke takes the plate I offer him and sits at the breakfast table in front of the window, but his eyes are on me. I remove the last waffle from the maker and drop it on my plate before sitting across from him.

"Boyd didn't get me drunk, I got myself drunk." I shake the can of whipped cream as I speak.

"He shouldn't have let you."

"Let me?" This conversation is getting more ridiculous by the second. "He doesn't own me, so why is he responsible for me?"

"Don't be cute, Sophie. He should have taken better care of you."

"Give him a break, Luke."

The fingers of Luke's left hand tap on the table. "I should get to know him then. What time is lunch?"

"I just walked right into that, didn't I?"

Luke smiles, smug in the knowledge that he got what he wanted. "You don't want to have lunch with both of us?"

I shrug. "Seems awkward."

He leans back in his chair and smirks. "I'm awkward?"

"You're never awkward and you know it." He's dressed for the day in a gray sweater and dark jeans. His hair is still damp from the shower and I want to sit on his lap and breathe in his aftershave while running my fingers through his hair, but we have things to do.

"Just be…" I trail off.

Luke raises a brow at me in question.

I sigh. "Nice."

"Whatever you want, Sophie." He's so agreeable. When he gets what he wants.

* * *

We walk to Joan Shepp, an upscale store just up the street from Luke's, to look for a dress for this gala. Well, Luke discusses options with a saleswoman—I just stand there fidgeting.

"She'll try all of these," Luke says, indicating the selection the saleswoman has pulled.

"Luke, no." I pull at his arm. I don't think I want any of these dresses. This store is making me nervous. I cannot afford to shop here.

"You haven't even tried them on yet. If you don't like any of these we can try another store after lunch."

Alone in a dressing room I undress and finger the price tags. I know a dress from Target isn't going to cut it in Luke's world, but I didn't realize the discrepancy was so great. Three thousand, six hundred and ninety-five dollars. Eighteen hundred dollars. Two thousand, four hundred and twenty-five dollars. Wait, here's a bargain—nine hundred and fifteen dollars. I'm sure Luke intends to pay, but I have no frame of reference for this. The nicest dress I've ever worn was to my prom and my prom date most certainly did not take me to the store and buy my dress.

There's a knock on the door. It's the saleswoman asking how the dresses are fitting and letting me know that the gentleman would like to see the fit.

I groan and pull the "cheap" dress off the hanger and slide it on. It's pretty, gray and slinky with a plunging neckline. I'm not wearing heels so it drags on the floor. I pinch the fabric at mid-thigh with my fingertips to raise the hem and walk out to find Luke. He's texting but stops and frowns when he sees my face.

"What's wrong? You don't like this one?" His gaze runs up and down my form. "It fits you perfectly."

I shake my head no. "Can we leave?" I ask quietly. Luke examines my face, waiting for more from me, but it's not coming.

"Okay," he agrees, but I can tell he's confused.

I strip out of the dress and change back into my jeans and sweater as quickly as possible and sigh in relief.

We exit the shop and walk towards Market Street. We're meeting Boyd at the Capital Grille.

"Care to explain, Sophie?" Luke interrupts my thoughts as we walk. His eyes are focused ahead.

I shrug.

"Words, please."

"I don't want you to buy me a dress."

"Why not?"

I shrug again.

"Sophie." His tone indicates he's not amused.

"I just don't."

He's quiet then as we walk, our feet crunching over the shoveled sidewalks, cars swooshing past us on the street.

"Did you want me to find another date so you can stay home?"

"Like Gina?" I retort.

"What the hell does Gina have to do with this?" He sounds close to exhausted with me but I shrug again. I'm pretty sure based on the tick in his jaw that he'd be spanking my ass right now if we weren't in the middle of the street. I know I'm behaving like a brat, but I don't have any answers for Luke. I don't know how to express why the dress bothers me, but it does. Maybe it signifies how different we are. Buying expensive dresses and attending galas is not anything I see in my future, even after graduation.

"This is a black-tie event, Sophie, you need an appropriate dress if you're going to attend, and I'd like you to attend."

"I want to go with you." I trail off and then Luke gets a call, so I'm saved from elaborating. We've reached the Capital Grille on Chestnut, where we’re meeting Boyd for lunch. Luke indicates I should go in while he finishes his call and I gladly take the opportunity to postpone this conversation.