Page 41 of Faking It with the Off-Limits Doctor

“You look nervous,” Alex says when he picks me up.

“Ya think?” I reply, pulling on my seatbelt. “This deal was supposed to be over by the time my brother was back in the country.”

Alex gives me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Dara.”

I blow out a deep breath. “It’s not your fault. I just thought the worst was over after lying to the entire population of Riverdale.”

“Just tell him what you’ve told everybody else.”

“Yes, I know,” I say, far too snappily. My nerves are jumping now.

“Hey,” Alex says gently, reaching a hand across the car to grab mine. “It’ll be okay.”

I don’t pull my hand away, but I do say, “How can you be so calm?”

Alex lifts the corner of his mouth. “I’m not. Not really.”

“Well, you look it.” I nod towards him, encapsulating his entire stress-free composure.

“I’m being a swan.”

“A what?” I gawk back.

He grins. “A swan. On the surface, they look graceful, like everything is a breeze, but under the water, their little legs are paddling like mad.” He makes a paddling gesture with his hands and I can’t help but crack a smile.

“Okay, bird boy.” I smirk, “let’s hope my brother buys it.”

We pull up outside Mark’s house less than ten minutes later. My stomach feels like there are twenty tiny contortionists inside, bending themselves into knots of every shape and size.

Alex rounds the car, opens my door, and offers a hand. I take it and he doesn’t let go. We walk up to the front door, hand in hand, my heart thumping in my chest. Just as we get to the front porch, Alex gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.

Be a swan, Dara. Be a swan.

I knock on the screen door. “Hello?”

“It’s open,” Mark calls back, his voice sounding strained.

When we walk into his living room, Mark’s lying on the sofa, a thin blanket covering him, with a bucket and a bottle of soda lying on the floor beside him. He looks awful, yet a part of me is relieved. Dreadful as the thought is, this is probably the best I could have hoped for: My huge brother completely defenseless and in a weakened state.

“Oh, Mark,” I say, walking toward him.

I still feel sorry for him. Mark is a very handsome five-foot-ten, athletic guy, and I can’t remember the last time I saw him floored like this.

“No,” he puts up a hand. “Don’t come too close. I don’t know if I’m contagious. The last thing Riverdale’s sewage system needs is an epidemic of this thing.”

“Can I get you anything? Juice? Water?”

Mark nods. “That’d be great. There’s a jug in the fridge.”

I leave the room and wonder what Alex and Mark’s first words will be. I don’t want to be there for that, so I’m happy I’m in the kitchen, peering into his entirely empty fridge.

I take my time grabbing the jug, and walking back across the kitchen, I stop at the door, take a deep breath to ready myself for what’s about to come, and then walk through it.

“Here,” I say, filling the glass that’s sitting on a table beside him.

“Thanks, sis.”

He’s looking up at me with a completely deadpan expression, giving me nothing to work with. I move across the room, and seeing Alex is already seated in a wide comfy chair, I hitch myself onto the arm of the seat and sit beside him. Automatically, he lifts his hand and takes hold of mine.

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