In a Fix by Linda Grimes

you were so attracted to Trey? You’ve worked plenty of jobs with good-looking men, and never turned into a quivering mass of hormone-rattled goo before. You were obviously picking up on his underlying Mark vibe.”
    Oh, my God—was it true? Did I subconsciously know it was Mark all along? Was I really that miserably stuck on him? I spat a piece of thumbnail into my napkin. Shit . I hadn’t even been aware I was chewing it. I pushed my chair away from the table, not hungry any longer.
    “Don’t worry, cuz. Your secret is safe with me.” He leaned back, a smug look on his face. Probably because he had successfully diverted my ire from his wavy-haired head.
    “You’re being ridiculous. If I was attracted to anyone, it was Trey. Mark is too good an adaptor to let any of himself slip through. If I responded at all, and I’m not saying I did—”
    “Right.”
    “ If I responded, it was a purely physical reaction to a nice male specimen. That’s all .”
    “God, you’re cute when you’re mad. By the way, I like your hair short like that, sticking out all over, kind of post-modern punk.”
    My hands flew to my head and smoothed my flyaway tresses. I’d gone short since the last time Billy saw me—but not, I stress, “punk”—in hopes it would make me appear older. Wearing my hair long had made me look about fourteen, and I was sick of getting carded in bars. I was also sick of my cousin’s barbs.
    He winked. “Unclench your fists, cuz. I’m not wearing a cup today and I’m feeling rather defenseless.” His eyes softened, losing their teasing glint. “I meant what I said. You’re adorable, you know that, right?”
    I dropped my head back and stared at the ceiling. “Uh-huh. I’m irresistible. Just ask Mark.”
    “He cares an awful lot about you.”
    “Yeah, I know. I’m the little sister he never had.” I grabbed the pizza box and trudged toward the kitchen. “You have no idea how frustrating it is to really, really like someone who only sees you as an annoying relation.”
    Billy gathered the empty beer cans and followed me. He crushed them one at a time and tossed them in the bin while I shoved the leftover pizza into the fridge. “So, you ‘really, really like’ Mark, huh? You mean, like, like like?”
    I had to admit it sounded pretty juvenile. “God. I’m pathetic, aren’t I?”
    “Absolutely,” he said, draping an arm over my shoulder. “But on you it works.” He kissed my forehead and walked me back to the living room.
    “If I’d had half a brain when I was growing up, I’d have gradually adapted myself to be tall and curvaceous as soon as I was through puberty. Now everybody in the family knows what I really look like, so I can’t do anything about it.” I shrugged out from under his arm and sprawled backward on the couch.
    “Not even you can hold an aura forever, Supergirl. Somebody would have caught you eventually,” he said reasonably, sitting next to me and pulling my feet onto his lap. Gaaaah. There is nothing better than a foot massage, except for chocolate, and maybe sex. I felt my whole body relax as he worked the arch of my left foot with strong, gentle fingers. Make that a big maybe on the sex. Nothing I’d experienced in that department thus far came close to being as good as a foot massage. He switched to my right foot. “Now, which speech do you want—‘Appearances Are Shallow’ or ‘It’s What’s on the Inside That Counts’?”
    I felt a tug at the corner of my lips. “Neither. I’d rather bitch and moan some more.”
    He went on massaging. “If you must. But could you give me a heads up when you’re done, so I’ll know when to start listening again?”
    I peered at him from beneath half-closed lids. “It’s easy for you, you know. You’d be singing a different tune if you still looked like your sixth-grade school picture,” I said, just to be evil.
    He laughed in good-natured agreement, and started in on my toes. “Not a good year for me. If