Small Town Hero C37
I give a hesitant shake of my head. “Is that okay?”
“Yes,” he says. “Sure.”
“It’s just, we’ve just cleared the air between us. And you know how she is, she will have a million questions, and she won’t let up on either of us. It will just be easier. Is that-”
“Jamie,” he says, smile widening. “Trust me, I know how my little sister gets. We don’t have to tell anyone.”
I relax against him, my hands flattening on his chest. “Thank you.”
“I’ll be your secret,” he murmurs, dropping his lips to my ear. “Did you ever think about that, back in the day? What it would have been like if we’d snuck around together?”
My lips fall open. “What? You mean… you and me? Dating?”
“Yes,” he says. “Right under my sister’s nose, but without her knowledge.”
“You thought about that,” I say.
He nods, unabashed. There’s a fire in his eyes. “Every time she left us alone on the couch, watching TV, I wondered what you’d do if I kissed you.”
I can’t find my breath. To have the old tension addressed, to hear him confirm the fire beneath our constant bickering. There had been times I’d been so sure he felt the same… and then most other times, I was convinced Parker would never see me as anything but Lily’s weird friend.
Parker’s grin widens. “I always wondered if you’d slap me or kiss me back.”
“Both, probably,” I breathe.
He chuckles. “Probably,” he agrees, and dips his head lower. “Whenever you slept over at our house, in Lily’s room, I’d sleep terribly.”Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.
“You would?” I whisper.
“Mhm. You were only a room away. What if we met in the hallway, going to the bathroom, late at night? What did you wear to bed?” He makes his voice teasing. “The scenarios tortured me. I was only a teenage boy, James, and you were gorgeous.”
I laugh at that. “I had purple highlights and a nose ring!”
“Gorgeous,” he repeats. “But I’ll admit it made me feel like a pervert.”
I roll my eyes. “You were only a grade older than me.”
“Still. You were my sister’s best friend. Still are, actually.” His hand squeezes my hip.
“God, you were so annoying back then,” I say, smiling. “You would take half the couch.”
“Well, I wanted to be close to you.”
“You insisted on watching sports, every single afternoon, and always pulled the older-than-Lily card to win the remote war.”
“Because I knew how much it annoyed you,” he says. “Do you think I actually wanted to watch all those games?”
My hands still on his chest. “Of course you did. Didn’t you? You were a jock.”
“I liked them,” he says, “but I liked watching you pretend to be annoyed by me more. You’d come up with the most ridiculous arguments against organized sports. Come on, tell me you didn’t enjoy our little dance?”
“I did,” I say, rising on my tiptoes again. “I liked to annoy you too. Was pretty good at it, wasn’t I?”
“Yes,” he murmurs, and kisses me back with slow, lingering touches that promise more to come. “You always ignored me at school.”
I’d laugh if he didn’t have his mouth on mine. That was the other way around. He was in the glorified space above the cool clique, reserved for the kids who were beyond social hierarchies. He was a Marchand, the third golden son to attend Paradise High, a star athlete, and destined for great things. There was no lunch table off-limits for him.
“I didn’t ignore you,” I say. “You were too cool for me.”
He snorts. “You were the one who wore biker boots that broke dress code and staged protests in the cafeteria. You didn’t care about what anyone thought, and I loved watching you do it, all of it.”
I didn’t think he’d ever noticed.
He kisses me again, and it takes us several long moments to resurface for air. My head is spinning softly. “I should go,” I say, my hands re-fastening the button I’d accidentally undone in his shirt. “My shift-my break, I mean, it should be over now.”
Parker nudges my cheek with his nose. “When can I see you next?”
“I don’t know.”
He presses his lips to my neck, a warm brush over my sensitive skin. My hands slip into his hair and it’s hard to concentrate. “When, James?” he murmurs again.
“Um. Soon. I want… oh. Wednesday night, maybe?”
“Wednesday,” he says. “Okay.”
“My mom has her book club again. You could come over. Although…”
He raises his head. “Emma?”
I nod.
“I can come over after her bedtime.”
“She really likes you,” I say. “You saw that, didn’t you, on the boat yesterday? She hangs off your every word. But it’s just that… ”
“I get it,” he says, stroking a thumb along my cheek. “You don’t want her to get too attached. I’m not offended.”
I sigh in relief. It’s odd, and new, and so light to be with a man who doesn’t twist my words around. Who isn’t unpredictable, sunshine one day and all flames the next. Parker is steadiness itself, a contrast to the ocean he loves so much.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
He kisses me one last time. “Don’t apologize. Until Wednesday, then.”
“I can’t wait.”
“God, me neither, Jamie.”
I re-fold the blanket thrown over the side of the couch. The pillows are already fluffed, a bowl of chips on the table. That might have been too much, though. Like I’ve prepared for a movie night with a friend.