Crushed - Pamela Ann Page 0,10
that this—our budding friendship and whatever else was there between us—wasn’t possible.
“Why are you doing this?” There was a slight persistence to my voice, maybe even a little hurt because he knew how I felt about him. “We both know you love her…” I trailed off as I watched his reaction play across his handsome, scruffy face.
“Lindsey…” he began saying, as if he was trying to conjure the right words to describe what he wanted to convey before he nipped the side of his lip, drawing breath through his teeth. “Well, she’s Carter’s baby sister, and she’s too much to handle sometimes.”
I knew as much. He valued his friendship with Carter too much to mess it up.
“But you’re in love with her even after all of that.” It was a fact, one I told myself every day. “Does she even know how you feel about her?”
Shaking his head, he then murmured, “No. Hell, no.”
Fuck, that was painful. It was one thing seeing him fall in love with her from a distance, but it was another monster altogether hearing him openly admit it. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t want to direct our conversation to something light or consider walking away from him, but instead, I stood my ground, ready for the punches to keep on rolling.
“Do you plan to tell her?”
“Never,” he vehemently said, frowning. “Not if I can help it.”
He was in love with her, yet he wanted to suffer by not telling Lindsey. I understood that he respected Carter, but come on, he needed to grow some balls and get over it. No one was worthy of him except for my dear friend, and even though it was cutting me to shreds thinking about them together, I would be content knowing two people I cared so much for were indeed happy as a couple. A part of me insisted it would be better off to leave the subject alone because, let’s face it; it wasn’t my business what he did or didn’t do with his love life. At the same time, the other good side was persistent. If I could convince him to drop his inhibitions and dive into it, maybe I wouldn’t feel so guilty any longer.
“What are you so scared about?”
“Everything.”
I shouldn’t, yet I couldn’t stand him looking glum. Though I was young, I knew enough that I could be selfless in wanting him to find happiness.
“Maybe you should take the risk. Maybe it’ll be worth it in the end.”
An impatient sound came out of him before he gave me a pointed look, as if he was ready to challenge me.
“Maybe it won’t, but I don’t want to talk about that right now.”
Of course he didn’t. He would rather dwell on my problems than face his. Typical male redirection.
I was about to say something sarcastic when my phone rang in the small clutch purse that was hanging off my wrist. The size was enough to carry money, phone, car keys, and mints. It was imperative during summer months.
“One sec,” I exclaimed as I dug in to fetch my phone before placing it against my ear to answer it.
All the while I was taking the call, I could feel the heat of his stare. If I had the guts, I would look him straight in the eye, raise my brow, and give him a ‘take it or leave it’ look. I knew my body was in the best shape, and I admit his admiring eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Though I was delighted by his attention, I couldn’t really revel in it without having to deal with the guilt that never ceased to always sprout whenever I strayed away from my mission of keeping it platonic between us.
“Who was that?” his brooding self immediately asked the moment I hung up the call and inserted the little device back into my tiny, golden, glittery clutch.
“Russo.”
His handsome face frowned deeper, like he couldn’t fathom why one of the guys on the soccer team with him was calling me out of the blue.
“And what does Russo want with you?”
He wasn’t the only male friend I had. Did he even consider that option? I mean, I knew I wasn’t the hottest piece of ass around, but crap, I had a few men fawning over me. I wasn’t about to point that out just yet, though. Given his dark expression, it wouldn’t be a wise move on my part.
“He’s wondering if I wanted to head out to Cece’s party. She’s having some shindig