Alias

Surprise at First Sight

"Hot date tonight?"

I study the dresses in front of me for another second before glancing over my shoulder. My sister, Lily, looks cozy in her sweats and slipper socks. While she'll probably be spending the night with Netflix, I'll be trying to breathe in my Spanx-like attire.

"I just got a booking," I say as I set my hands on my hips. "Which one of these do you like better?"

She flops on the bed next to my choices. "Depends. Where are you going?"

I grab my cell off the nightstand and check my email again. It's rare to receive a request less than twenty-four hours in advance. "The Westin. From there I'm not sure."

Lily lets out a low whistle. "The one in Detroit?"

I nod and my sister puts a finger against her chin in thought. "Based on his hotel choice, my guess is your man has money and he likes the Italian Renaissance." She wags her eyebrows. "You'll have to let me know if he's an architect."

Pride fills my heart even though I shake my head. Lily is eight years younger than me, and she's always been too smart for her own good. I don't know anyone else who would know the architectural style of a hotel downriver, especially a high school senior who plans to study agriculture and natural resources at Michigan State next fall.

"You know my clients always have money." I grin and toss my phone aside. "So. Which one?" I point between the dresses. I've narrowed my choices down to my two favorite designers.

Lily lifts an eyebrow. "He didn't specify?"

"No. All I got was the time and the place. No special requests other than dinner."

"That's weird. They usually give you a favorite color at least." Lily reaches over to play with the hem of my black lace Stella McCartney cocktail dress. Her eyes leave her fingers and jump to my other choice, a blush pink Herve Leger bandage number. "Italian Renaissance," she says. "I'd choose the lace."

"Done." I scoop up the dress I won't be wearing and step inside the closet to hang it up. "What are your plans tonight?"

"Reid is coming over to help me with my calculus homework." My sister lets out a heavy sigh. "I swear that class was created for the sole purpose of ruining my GPA."

I stick my head around the closet door. "You'll do fine. You always do."

"That's because I've never had to take this class before," she huffs. "You don't know if I'll be fine. What if I fail?"

"Lily." I give her my cut-the-crap stare. "You never fail at anything. If you get a B it won't be the end of the world. Hell, even a C is average. You can be average in calculus."

She looks mortified. "I cannot be average! I refuse to work my ass off for a C."

My head falls back and I stare at the ceiling. "You're such an over achiever."

"Excuse me?" Lily pushes herself off the bed and walks toward me. "Look who's talking, Skye."

I cross my arms. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"C'mon, Fern." Lily uses my real name. "You're just as driven as I am. Look around. Walk-in closet, designer clothes. A big house in the suburbs for just you and me. There's a Lexus and a Cadillac in the garage. Do we really need all of this?"

My eyes narrow. "Are you saying you don't want your car?"

She back tracks. "No. I want my car."

My expression turns smug.

"What I'm saying is only an over achiever would find a way to turn what we had into what we have. Only an over achiever would be" – she holds her thumb and forefinger an inch apart – "this close to making associate partner. Look at us. We're the same."