Page 23 of Undeniable

“I don’t understand why he’s so angry.”

Shelby almost doubled over with laughter, and after a few moments, she wiped under her eyes like she’d been laughing so hard she was crying.

“You’re kidding, right?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m not kidding. I understand he’s surprised that Brendon is my date, but what does he want me to do?”

She shrugged and leaned back against the bleachers. “Actually, I take back my earlier comment about wanting to kill each other. He looks like he wants you to follow him outside or into a dark classroom so he can screw you up against the wall or maybe on top of a desk.”

My jaw dropped, and I swatted at her arm. My entire body flushed at the thought and I couldn’t stop the mental images that assaulted me.

“Shelby!” I angrily whispered and glanced around us to make sure no one else heard her.

“What? There is a thin line between hate and lust.”

I threw my hands in the air and rolled my eyes.

“Look, Ives,” she began, propping her hands on my shoulders and turning me to face her. I kept my head ducked, my secondhand embarrassment from what just came out of her mouth running deep.

“I’m not sure what’s going on between the two of you, but it’s obviouslysomething.That guy is…” She struggled with the right word for a moment but then settled on “enamored,” which made me laugh.

The thought of James Larson being enamored with anyone, especially me, was laughable.

“All I’m saying is that you should be careful. He didn’t get his reputation for being a player overnight, but I have never seen that guy look at anyone the way he’s been staring at you all night.”

“You’re talking like something’s going to happen.”

She chuckled and released me finally. “I’d be surprised if something didn’t happen. And if you want tomakeit happen, you could use the person walking this way to do it.”

I didn’t have a moment to even consider her words before there was a hand slipping down my arm and fingers clasping around mine.

“Let’s dance.” Brendon smiled down at me, and I nodded.

I let him lead me back out to the dance floor, and I made a conscious effort not to glance at the opposite side of the room. But whether I acknowledged it or not, there was no ignoring him.

The song was faster and more upbeat than the one we danced to earlier, but Brendon’s hands still found my hips and I let mine gingerly fall to his biceps. His jacket had disappeared somewhere, leaving him in only his white shirt and loose necktie.

His shaggy, dark-brown hair hung loosely around his forehead, and his brown eyes were bright. Objectively, Brendon was boyishly handsome. But for some reason, it was blond hair and a threatening blue-eyed stare that made me weak.

“I’m glad you said yes to coming with me.”

My smile was authentic. Out of all the guys I’d gone to school with and grown up with, Brendon was the sweetest and least annoying. He was likely the only one I could really call my friend. “I’m glad you asked me.”

He tugged me closer, and something in me started. Not need or desire, but worry that his intentions didn’t align with my own.

His eyes darted quickly over my face, and I could see his confidence growing. But as Brendon’s confidence grew, I could feel the heaviness of eyes on me. Eyes that were focused on the two of us pressed together on the dance floor, slowly swaying to the quick rhythm. The disparity between the music and our dancing—or lack thereof—was evidence of the turn our conversation was taking. “We’ve been friends for a while—”

“Brendon,” I started, trying to speak over the music, but he cut me off with a quick shake of his head.

“Wait, let me get this out. We’ve been friends for a while, which has been great, but I really like you, Ivy.” My heart thumped in my chest hard enough that I could nearly hear the sound of it over the music.

I was confused and caught off guard. I liked to think that I could read people fairly well, but Brendon hadn’t shown any signs of wanting to be more than friends. He even made asking me to prom sound more like an agreement between two friends to go together instead of alone.

If James was a womanizer, then Brendon was the exact opposite. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d led with the friendship angle to give himself time to muster the courage to say he wanted more.

“Really?” I asked, trying to comprehend his revelation.

Brendon’s hand lifted and brushed my hair over my shoulder. He rested that hand against my neck and used his fingers to urge me to look at him.

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