~ Black Lace ~ (l.h.)

12. Titanic and footsie

*Winnie's POV*

I can tell Luke is nervous as he takes his seat beside me at our dinner table. My parents greeted him warmly enough and he was polite and courteous. I made sure to give William a very pointed glare to ensure that he wouldn't blab about Luke and me... in my art room... doing creative things. He didn't say he got the message but I know he did.

"So Luke," my mother says as she passes him a bowl of mashed potatoes. "Do you go to school with Winnie?" Luke coughs shortly.

"Uh, no, I go to Eastern. I'm in the year under her." He scoops some of the potatoes onto his plate.

"Oh, that's nice. How are classes there?" The conversation continues boringly. Luke is kind, offering detailed answers that aren't dull, necessarily, but aren't mind-blowing either.

"So if you don't go to school together, how'd you two meet?" my brother pipes up. I blush slightly, remembering that awful meeting.

"Uh, we kind of bumped into each other at my work..." Luke says with an awkward laugh, meeting my eyes guiltily.

"I was walking past the kitchen doors and he came out at the same time, carrying a plate of food and I kind of knocked it onto the floor and we've been friends ever since." I explain to my confused family quickly.

"You work at a restaurant, then, I suppose," my father says and Luke nods. Back to boring talk. That's when Luke kicks me under the table. I glance at him but he doesn't look back at me, keeping his eyes transfixed on my dad, talking about the horrible service he once received at a McDonald's. I see his body move slightly and then there's another tap on my ankle by a socked foot. I continue to stare at him until I feel a third kick. Then I look back at my food and shovel a pile of gravy-covered chicken into my mouth. He wants to play footsie, he can play footsie. I aim a small kick at his shin and this time it's his turn to look at me. I pretend to be engrossed in my father's story, even though I've heard it a trillion times. He turns his attention away from me again but this time he slides his hand as inconspicuously as possible up my thigh. I bite back a smile and gently force his hand away.

"Not right now," I murmur, still not looking at him. My parents are oblivious and I don't dare look at Will for fear that he knows what's happening. My brother is notorious for blackmail.

Will is two years younger than me and he's an ass. He also has probably the worst name in the world-William Williams-but he won't go by Bill to spare himself the embarrassment. Seriously, though, this kid spends his every waking moment either playing video games or trying to ruin my life. I swear he's going to be a criminal someday because of all the freaky things he knows how to do. He can pick a lock, hack a computer, you name it. He's a genius. And by that, I don't mean that he's smart-I mean he is an actual, tested genius. Too bad he uses that power for evil.

"What were you guys doing in your studio, Winnie?" Will asks me with a knowing smirk. I roll my eyes at him.

"Art, what do you think?" I snap back.

"What are you working on now, hon?" my mother asks, trying to distract me from wanting to slap the grin off my brother's face. I glare at Will for a second longer and then answer my mother with a polite smile.

"I was painting Luke, actually."

"Like in Titanic?" Will snickers. "Draw me like one of your French girls!"

"No, not like Titanic," I kick him under the table, with much more force than I'd used on Luke, and he glowers at me.

"Did you finish it?" my father asks, shooting an apologetic look at Luke.