Blurred Lines (Love Unexpectedly #1)(44)

And I can’t get into it. Any of it.

But I’m less worried about me and the fact that I’m suddenly indifferent to something that used to work like a charm, and more worried about my best friend.

I feel eyes on me and look over to see John giving me a weird look. He holds up the drink Parker shoved at him and lifts his eyebrows in question.

I shake my head. Dunno.

Then his gaze shifts to Cora—the girl in my lap—and his brows lift again. I realize way too late that Cora’s kissing my neck, and not only am I not getting into it— Hell, I didn’t even notice it.

This is not a good sign.

There’s no good way to do this, so I grit my teeth and put both hands on Cora’s waist, shifting her to the right as I ease to the left.

She gives me a startled look, but an apologetic smile is all I can manage. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say I’ll be right back, except…

I don’t know that I will.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, only that I need to find Parker. Figure out why she’s home instead of getting laid by Brendon or Brandon or whatever.

I pause by Jason on my way toward the stairs. “Get rid of them. But nicely. Send the booze with them to ease the blow.”

“You got it,” he says, pushing to his feet.

I feel kind of crappy about the fact that I’m going to throw, like, ten people’s Friday night off its game, but hell…they’re all mostly drunk anyway. They can always relocate to Joe’s house; he’s a three-minute walk away.

I take the stairs two at a time, not surprised to see that Parker’s door is shut.

I am surprised to find it locked.

I didn’t even know she had a lock.

My chest feels tight.

“Parks?”

I knock with one knuckle.

Nothing.

I pound the door louder, this time with my palm, telling myself that maybe she can’t hear over the still-thumping music.

Still nothing.

Well…fine.

I’m not a younger brother for nothing. I know just how to handle a locked door.

I head toward my own room, yank a shirt off a wire hanger, and then unbend the hanger into proper lock-picking position as I head back to her room.

Only to find that the door’s open by the time I get there.

Parker’s standing there, dressed only in lingerie—wow lingerie—as she stares down at the hanger in my hand.

“Really?” she asks, when her eyes come back to mine.

But all I can think is…thank God.

I don’t know thank God for what, whether it’s the fact that she’s not crying like I thought she might be, or that she’s looking really f*cking amazing, or if it’s just pure gratitude that she opened the door to me.

I don’t ever want her to shut the door to me.

“You locked me out,” I say.

“I didn’t lock you out,” she says. But her eyes shift away and I’m not entirely sure I believe her. “Your friend Joe was giving me weird looks.”

“So you dressed in your laciest, skimpiest bra and panties?” I ask, unable to tear my eyes away from her perfect figure.

“That wasn’t for Joe. Or you,” she’s quick to add. “I thought—”

“Brandon,” I say, crossing my arms.

Parker bites her lip, then looks over my shoulder toward the stairs. “What are you doing up here? Did you need something?”

I’m a little stung by what seems to be a dismissal. “You seemed upset. I came to check on you.”

“Seems to me like you were looking to invade my privacy,” she says, with a chin nod at the hanger still in my hand.

Her voice is even, but her words are a little snippy, and it dawns on me that I should leave her to her bad mood and go back downstairs, where at least one girl will actually be happy to see me.

She starts to shut the door again, and I hold up a single finger. “Parker Blanton, do not close that door in my face.”

“But—”

I run back into my room, dig through my dresser until I find a T-shirt, do a quick sniff test to make sure it’s clean, then run back to where she’s still standing in the doorway.

“What are you—”

Her words are muffled as I unceremoniously yank the T-shirt over her head, not bothering with the armholes, but tugging it downward until she’s covered to upper thigh.

She blinks up at me and I push her back into her bedroom and close the door.

“I can’t think when you’re half-naked,” I say.

She slowly pushes her arms through the armholes. “You’ve shoved a T-shirt over my head before,” she says. “That night when Lance dumped me and I was hurling my clothes around, you put a T-shirt on me then, too. I just now remembered.”

“Yeah, and I did it then for the same reason. I don’t feel right looking at pretty lingerie that isn’t meant for me.”

Except back then, the fact that her lacy undergarments had been for Lance hadn’t bothered me in the least.

But tonight? Knowing that she got all dolled up for a guy she doesn’t even know?

That bothers me.

Even though I told her to do it.

I run a hand over my face.

“What happened?” I ask. “With the Brandon guy? Did he say something or was he—”