Not like that.
“Okay.” He raises his hands in surrender. “I’m done. I’m sorry.”
His confident grin is replaced with a genuine smile. “I should have made sure the door was locked. And I’m sorry your brothers got mad at you.”
I bite my bottom lip, trying to school my emotions over this sudden shift in the room. “It’s nothing new.”
“It still hurt you.” He whispers, and I hate that tears sting the back of my eyes in response.
“I’m fine.” Or at least I will be after I teach my brothers the lesson they deserve in exactly eleven days.
“You don’t have to pretend around me,” he says.
I swallow hard at the seriousness in his voice. If I didn’t pretend around him, he’d know how much I cared about him and he’d never come near me again.
“Okay.” I lie and turn back to my blank computer.
“Hey, Len?” His rough voice sends tingles through my veins.
I raise my eyes to him, slowly, carefully, like I’m looking at the sun. Because even though I know I shouldn’t, I still do it. “Yeah?”
He leans in, his smile growing with each inch he closes between us. I resist the urge to lean toward him. It wouldn’t take much to make our mouths touch. Just once, I want to kiss those tempting lips.
“Your computer isn’t on yet.”
That wasn’t a line, but wow, it sure sounded sexy. My heart races as my sweat glands kick into overdrive.
“See you later. Try not to fall for anyone else while I’m gone, okay?”
“Ha. Never.”
He grins and pats my desk before leaving, and I slowly die. Why did I just say that?
Chapter 7
Lennox
“Dad said the boys made another bet,” Mom says as we prepare Sunday dinner.
I raise my eyebrows at her. “Does that surprise you?”
She lets out a heavy sigh, like she’s tired of fighting this battle. “No. What is it this time?”
“I have to bring a date to the work Christmas party.”
“Oh honey, no.”
“It’s just a work party,” I grumble, mixing spinach into the salad. “How bad can it be?”
“How bad can it be?” My Grandma Bella laughs from across the table. “It’s a party put on by your father.”
She has a point there. Most people think my dad is super chill, but when it comes to Christmas, he tends to go overboard with the crazy train.
One year, instead of having a regular Santa, we had a sock puppet Santa. It was hard to sit on that one’s lap. Another year, he started a new Christmas Eve tradition by buying me and my brothers paintball guns. I was eight. Pictures that year featured two black eyes and zero smiles.
“It will be fine,” I assure both of them and dump the tomatoes into the tossed salad. “I already have a date.”
I don’t appreciate the way both of their eyebrows fly up. Is it really so hard to believe that I can get a date?
