Burnout - Coralee June Page 0,42

He placed his hand on my leg, curving his palm against my inner thigh as he spoke again.

“Proving that it wasn’t nothing,” he rasped.

“Why?” I was squirming in my driver’s seat, feeling hot and needy but knowing it couldn’t work. This could never work. I barely knew Decker, and what little I did know was that anything between us would make him resent me. I didn’t want to tear apart his friendship. I already felt like I was upheaving Lance’s life by moving to Memphis; ruining their friendship would be too much. Decker was loyal to a fault to Lance. I refused to be anyone’s dirty little secret or regret. I spent my entire life with someone that resented me, and I would rather die than experience that again.

“Because I know you want me, Blakely. It’s written all over your face. I can practically feel your heat in my palm.”

“So you’re good with your hands,” I said before removing one of my clenched fists from the steering wheel to shove him away. “But it doesn’t mean anything. Are you hot? Sure. I’m wet right now thinking about all the things your talented fingers could do while I drive us home. But I won’t be acting on it.”

Decker sucked in a gasp before pulling back to his seat. I noticed how he braced his hands under his thighs, as if forcing himself not to touch me. “Good. I was testing you,” he choked out. Guess we both were terrible liars.

“Bullshit. You want me, too. But it’s not going to happen. You love Lance like a brother. You’re about to be my goddamn teacher. If you’re insistent on having the awkward…talk about what this means, then you got it. It’s nothing. It will be nothing. It’ll lead to nothing. I’m not some immature girl you have to worry about developing a crush on you.”

I’d hoped that my little speech would make Decker relax, but he was still riled up. “Nothing,” he replied.

“Yup.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

My heart panged at his easy agreement. Despite it all, I wanted him to fight for me, as selfish as that sounded. I quickly changed the subject so as not to dwell on the pain wracking my chest. “So is this the part where you try to scare my dad off? Say he’s some hardened criminal after Lance’s money?” I asked.

“No. He proved he didn’t give a shit about Lance when he said he wasn’t his father. If he wanted his money, he’d have tried to push that. I actually think it’s admirable he came here.” Well, color me shocked. “Don’t look so surprised. If he does anything suspicious, I’ll handle it. But for now, he seems like a protective dude.”

Decker’s earlier words rang in my head. I had to fight back a smile as I spoke. “And for the record, gross about the fuck buddy comment.” Decker paled. That’s right, asshole. I hadn’t forgotten that jealous outburst. “I’ve dated older men, but he’s twice my age. Give me some credit.” I shivered for effect.

“You’ve dated older men? I find that hard to believe. Last we spoke, you said you didn’t go for old guys, remember?” Decker asked, and it wasn’t the question I was expecting.

“I was ruffling your feathers, and obviously it worked. When you’re forced to grow up at a young age, the immature bullshit loses its appeal. I prefer a man who knows what he’s doing.” I pulled into the parking garage at Lance’s loft and turned off the car, exiting with that little bit of information ringing in the air between us. Just because there would never be anything between us didn’t mean I couldn’t fuck with him.

“There’s one more thing, then I promise the talk can be over,” he choked out as I paused at the elevators.

“What?”

“Lance thinks you might have a crush on me.” He looked like he wanted to say more and pursed his lips, like it was the only thing keeping the truth back. I had half a mind to kiss him just to force his mouth open, but decided against it.

Great. Just fucking great. “And?”

“And he wants me to stay away.”

Well, that was an easy enough fix. “Sounds good to me. No more Ferris wheels. No more lingering stares. No more truths.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, then spoke again, conceding, “No more truths.”

11

Blakely

My school uniform was typical and unoriginal. I got dressed like the violent skeptic I was, pretending my lip gloss was armor, while