Page 10 of The Silent Count
Now she’s pretending she has a boyfriend? I’m half tempted to keep goading her to see how far she’ll take this charade. But I see this as my opportunity to talk about her dating life and run with it just like I would after catching a pass from Calhoun.
“Nice try, but you don’t have a boyfriend.” My words are matter of fact. Not an ounce of doubt laced in them.
Lea doesn’t have a boyfriend. If she did, her dad wouldn’t spend so much time trying to keep his players away from her.
Plus, I’ve also got a feeling she’s the kind of girl who’s all or nothing. If she had a man, he’d be with her on the sidelines at games. He'd be posted on her socials. If he were smart, he’d bring her lunch to work, because her schedule is busy enough as is and he'd want to make sure she eats. He would want as much time with her as he could get and would do it on her terms. At least, that is what I would do for a woman like her.
There’s also the fact that she’s been my pen pal for over three years now, and I know for a fact she doesn’t date. I also know, the girl gets asked out on dates all the time.
All. The. Time.
It’s annoying. Or it would be if she actually said yes to anyone. She won’t give anyone a chance. Which is another reason I’m hesitant for her to find out my secret. Lea might not know it, but she’s one of my best friends. Arguably mybestfriend, depending on what your definition of best friendship is.
I’ve had my sights set on her since the day we officially met, but she was my friend for months before that. I only hope that when I come clean, she doesn’t hate me for keeping this a secret from her for four fucking years.
If it comes down to it, I can come to terms with losing my dream girl, but I’ll never forgive myself if I lose my best friend.
“Are you keeping tabs on me, Parker?” She narrows her eyes at me. I swear there's a hint of amusement flickering somewhere within her ice queen facade.
I bite my cheek to hide my ‘just got caught red-handed’ level grin. If only she knew the truth.
“What if I prefer keeping my love life private, huh?”
“Then I’d ask what your significant other would think about you being alone in the car with me.”
“We’re coworkers,” she says, trying to convince herself.
“This is an after-hours non-work event that you’rewillinglyattending.” I pause, getting a kick out of the flames igniting in her gaze. “In fact, it took some convincing on my part for you to even agree to come. How would your partner feel about you voluntarily carpooling to a party with a male coworker? One who you hardly know, might I add?”
The two of us stay in the same position with our faces inches apart. Our breaths mix in our stare off. The tension between us is thickening by the second. If she keeps looking at me with that fire in her eyes, it’s going to make it a lot harder to hide my hard on when we get out of the car.
Lea is unrelenting. She doesn’t move a muscle. I can’t help but find this fiery side of her—the one I’ve heard so much about, but never experienced for myself—hot as hell.
I don’t know how long I’ve been staring at her lips by the time I realize I’m doing it. I’m almost certain the only reason it registers is because of the smug half-smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.
She backs down, dropping back into her seat to face the front again. I hear the click of her unlocking her phone and watch her go back to typing out the rest of an email. Somewhere amid it all, she gives me a quick, “Touché,” that’s so quiet I nearly miss it.
With that, I hop out and round the hood to open her door. When I do, she holds out her hand for me to help her out. When our hands meet, it’s nothing like it was in her office earlier. This time, our touch is electric. And based on the sharp gasp she sucks in, I know she feels it too.
I try to diffuse the moment by shutting the passenger door, and Lea clears her throat while she smooths down the front of her dress. I head toward the sidewalk, but only make it two steps before noticing she’s not at my side.
When I glance back, she’s pulled out a tube of lipstick from her purse, and squatted down just enough so she can see herself in the side mirror. She puckers out her lips and drags the nude-colored stick along her bottom one before rolling them together so her top lip gets coated too.
My dick strains against the zipper of my jeans, and I have to tear my eyes away from her.
“Lea,” I call over to her, my voice somewhere between a strain and a scold.
When she peeks up at me through her lashes, a surge of heat slithers down my spine like a snake. My attention might be focused on her freshly touched up lips, but I’m not oblivious to the performance she’s putting on right now.
She might be a master manipulator, but I’ve had a watchful eye long enough to pick up on her antics.
“Come on. Your little lipstick act isn’t fooling me. We’re walking into this party together, whether or not you like it.”
She scrunches her lips together, which is a telltale sign she’s not used to people calling out her bluffs often.
Once she catches up, I rest a hand gently on the small of her back, guiding the two of us toward Tommy’s backyard.
We make it all of three feet through the white suburban vinyl gate before a high pitched “Oh my god, Lea!” bursts out from the center of the crowd. Everyone goes silent, turning to look at the two of us standing alone at the entrance. The two of us who are standing awfully close to each other with my hand pressed against her back like we’re an old married couple.
