Chapter 11 #2
Her feet stop suddenly, halting her in her tracks. With an eerie slowness, she cricks her head to stare me down. She blinks and blinks again, her mouth moving wordlessly.
I’ve rendered her speechless.
Plastering on what I hope is a charming smile, I add some heat to my tone. “Lila, I’m asking you out. On a date.”
Then I give her the smolder, turned up to maximum. She’ll be putty in my hands momentarily.
The crinkle on her nose would be precious if she didn’t seem disgusted by the mere idea of going out with me. My gut sinks an inch like I swallowed a tiny pebble.
Her head slants, and her nose scrunch intensifies, as if she smells something foul.
And I hate how adorable it looks on her.
“In what alternate reality, on what timeline, and in what universe do you think I’d ever go out on a date with you?
Are you unwell? I mean, come on. You probably sleep with socks on and have a room in your house dedicated to Nickelback. ”
Ouch, two times.
My smolder is no longer effective on Lila Kent. Duly noted.
That’s fine, though. I won’t take it personally.
After all, this is merely a job. So her rejection doesn’t hurt one bit, and it’s just another hurdle I can easily overcome with a tweak to my strategy. All I have to do is charm her with more than my looks. Can do.
Apparently, my new mental narrator has more to say about my current predicament, and he chimes in uninvited.
But it does hurt. And the odds of him being charming are nil. In other words, our friend Reed is screwed.
Seriously, Morgan Freeman. Get out of my head.
Refusing to give up, I force some more richness into my tone and take a step closer to Lila. “I can’t stop thinking about you after the other night. And I’d like to take you out. Start fresh. Maybe things can end differently this time.”
It was meant to be a lie, but it doesn’t feel as false as it should.
Because it’s not a lie, dumbass.
Okay, Morgan Freeman can fuck right off.
Lila blinks at me. Again. With vigor this time.
Now, I can’t translate blinks, but if I could, I’m fairly certain those would be four-letter words. Considering her customary stance on swearing, it makes sense that she’d only cuss via untranslatable blinks, thus protecting her Pollyanna Perfect image.
She shakes off her stupor and resumes her trek to her front door. “Go away, Reed. I can’t deal with you tonight. I’m all booked up categorizing my agonies, which is way more fun than playing your little games.”
Her steps now hold the same vigor as her profanity-laced blinks.
It’s getting harder to believe she’s putting on a show of hating me.
I let her pull away so I can lick the wounds caused by her constant rejection. As much as I admire how strong she’s become over the years, I don’t like how she’s using that strength to shut me out of her life.
Why do I care? For the case, of course.
I catch up with her, putting my hand on her forearm gently. “Lila, come on. You can’t tell me you don’t feel this thing.”
She glances at my hand on her arm and shrugs it off. “I’m not feeling your thing, Reed. Gross.”
A sure-as-shit chuckle shakes my shoulders. “You know that isn’t what I meant.” I bite my tongue before I point out how she felt my dick the last time I saw her because I’ve deluded myself into believing it never happened.
Her only response is to increase her pace.
When we get to the front door, she fumbles for her keys, which is made worse by the bag of seeds. I easily find mine and open her door for her. All gentlemanly like. Because chicks dig that shit and for absolutely no other reason than my need to get her to open up to me.
For the case and only for the case.
At this point in the story, you’ve likely already figured out that our hero has a nasty habit of lying to himself. And that’s why I’ll be here to set the record straight, and I will be until he gets his head out of his ass.
As Lila once astutely pointed out, Kenzie didn’t give me a house key.
I took our mom’s without her knowledge and made a copy for myself.
If something ever happened, I needed a way to get in their place so I could protect them.
Because contrary to what everyone thinks, I don’t hate my sister. Not entirely.
And I damn sure don’t hate Lila. Even when she used and discarded me, I couldn’t hate her.
I was lying to myself about it for a long time.
Perhaps our hero is beginning to see the light. I wonder how long until he shoves his head back up his ass. Let’s watch and see.
Before she steps inside her front door, she looks at me like I’m a pail of dirty diapers rotting in the sun. I fucking detest how adorable she is when she does that.
“Reed, stop being fake nice to me. I get that you’re mad about the other night, but I’m not falling for whatever game you’re playing. It isn’t funny. And I’m seriously too tired for your drama tonight. Please just leave me alone.”
My chest stings. Probably shouldn’t have had the extra pepperoni on my pizza at lunch.
Mental Morgan Freeman sighs audibly.
Seriously, fuck that guy.
I flounder for something else to say, finding myself entranced by Lila’s sad eyes.
A familiar voice rings out from inside the apartment. “Close the door. The air is on!”
My grin flashes wide as I face my sister. “Hey, Kenz. Hope you don’t mind me popping by. It’s been too long. Did you ladies have dinner yet?”
“Nope. Get inside. You’re letting out all the cold air.”
Lila growls under her breath, flashing me her teeth.
But I just smile at her.
It’s game on.