Blurred Lines (Love Unexpectedly #1)(25)

“I know,” she says, clasping her hands in front of her and biting her lip. “I know it sounds crazy, and I know I’m springing this on you—”

“You think?” I say, feeling the rare urge to lose my temper. “What the hell am I supposed to say to that, Parker? You’ll forgive me if I’m feeling a little blindsided here.”

She looks at the floor and, despite my anger, I feel a little twinge of guilt, because it can’t have been easy for her to say what she just said. It was a bold move. I’ll give her that.

But we’ve spent years trying to explain to everyone in the world about how we’re not friends with benefits, that we’re not friends with latent, unexplored romantic feelings, and here she is, willing to throw it all way for—

“Why?” I ask, realizing that that was the question I should have asked from the beginning. My voice is a little softer now. Knowing that there’s got to be a reason behind her sudden burst of insanity.

Her eyes meet mine again. “All the reasons I said. I want…I want to have fun with sex, you know? But I can’t do that as long as I’m preoccupied with how bored I am by the other person, or how annoying he is, or how do I know he wasn’t lying about being free of STDs, or how do I know he’s not a psycho…”

I smile a little at that, because it’s so her. “You’re overthinking it.”

“Exactly! My brain won’t let me do this with a stranger, because there are too many unknowns. I wouldn’t be able to relax and get lost in the moment. Maybe if I had years of practice like you, or even Lori…”

“Don’t bite my head off for suggesting this,” I say, holding up my hands. “But do you think maybe you’re just not meant for the casual sex thing? Why not wait until the right guy comes around and get your rocks off that way?”

To my surprise, she doesn’t lay into me for having a double standard, or even for using the phrase get your rocks off, which she’s always hated.

“I can’t risk it,” she says quietly.

I frown. “Can’t risk what?”

Her voice is small. “My heart.”

My stomach clenches at that. She looks so damn fragile.

“Getting dumped hurt,” she continues. “I don’t know that Lance was the love of my life. I’m guessing not, since I’m not exactly up in my room pining for him. But I did care about him—loved him—and he didn’t love me back, and I don’t want to do that again, Ben.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling so wildly unprepared for this kind of conversation it’s not even funny.

I answer carefully. “I get that. I do. But the answer is not…you and me,” I finish awkwardly.

What would that even look like? Be like?

“But you have flings all the time,” she argues. “Why not with me?”

I give her a look. “You know why. It would mess everything up.”

“Not if we didn’t let it,” she says, taking a half step forward. “We trust each other. Make each other laugh. And we’re both attractive—”

“Yes, but not attracted to each other,” I’m quick to clarify.

She tilts her head and looks me over. “I bet we could get over that.”

I remember my strange reaction to a drunken Parker taking her shirt off a couple weeks ago and realize she’s right. I could get over the It’s just Parker thing real fast if I saw her in that sexy little red bra again. Or a black bra. Or no bra. Or…

“No,” I say tersely. “Not happening.”

“It wouldn’t have to be weird,” she says. “We’ve managed to avoid all the other clichés of guys and girls being friends, so what makes you think we can’t also avoid the cliché of sex ruining the friendship?”

“Not happening,” I say, finishing my water glass in two gulps and moving toward the fridge. Except not for more water. Beer. I’ve definitely earned one.

I feel her studying me as I dig around for the bottle opener. Feel her gaze as I take a long, much-needed pull on the IPA.

“You’re probably right,” she says finally.

Oh thank God.

“Glad to see you’ve seen the light,” I say dryly.

She moves to the fridge to get herself a beer. “Right.” Then she groans. “Ugh. That was…embarrassing. Sorry to put you through that. I just…I was discouraged and started thinking crazy.”

“You think?”

She picks up the bottle top I left on the counter and drops that and her own into the trash. “I just kept trying to envision us kissing, and—”

Parker breaks off midsentence and gives a dramatic shudder. “Gross.”

I pause with the bottle halfway to my mouth. Gross? Awkward, sure. Insane, yes. But gross?

“It wouldn’t be that bad,” I grumble before I can stop myself.

She looks at my mouth and then makes a face before turning away, giggling. “It would be! You know it would.”

Okay, I’m not proud of this, but…her laughter stings. Not in the I’m going to need to go to therapy kind of way, but my ego is definitely hurting, just a little.

I point my beer in her direction. “I’ll have you know that I’m a damn good kisser.”