Page 25 of Legacy
Aarabelle
Luke wants to talk. For no other reason, that I can think of other than he was bored. Now, some would say that’s a reach because you’re admitting that he’s bored, but my argument is that he wanted to talk to me. Out of all of the people he could have texted, he sent me a message. Am I reading too far into this? I wasn’t until he asked if I thought he was hot. I’m staring at my ceiling fan beating the air ruthlessly, breathing—trying to think of a joke to diffuse whatever is happening right now. Sexual tension? Chemistry through shared hobbies and bonds?
“I’m waiting. It’s not a hard question. I was doing a little searching and saw Henry’s photos online. Am I hotter than Henry?” Hart asks, an edge to his voice.
“Every male on the face of the planet is hotter than Henry,” I retort. “What changes if I tell you if I think you’re hot? It doesn’t change anything. I’ll plead the fifth.” Henry is attractive in every way that Luke is not and vice versa. “You can’t compare apples to oranges, anyway. It’s invalid data.”
Luke snickers. “I can’t believe you don’t think I’m more attractive than that douche bag.”
“I work with you, Hart.”
He groans. Where is he going with this? I’m confused, and happy, and all sorts of mixed up. The first thing I did when I got home from his house is pull up the HR notice about the new rules. I wanted to read specifically what Lt. Williams was pushing out to everyone. It’s the fourth directive. No interpersonal relationships between teammates. It’s vague to give the authority more power. If they gave specific guidelines, there would be loopholes. No interpersonal relationships between teammates has no loopholes.
“We can pretend we don’t work together for a few minutes,” Luke says.
I hold my breath. I’m on the border of spitting out the fourth directive but don’t. “Do you know how many people were against me? Didn’t want me to make it? You’re asking me to put everything in jeopardy to play pretend? If you cared about our friendship, you’d value that fact more.” Granted, it’s a new friendship and I don’t expect him to do as I ask, but if I get it out there now, maybe it will tamp down on his advances and I could stop daydreaming about his stupid dimples. His full lips. Blue, glacier eyes that narrow when he looks at me. Oh, God. I hate myself right now. Literally as I’m preaching to him about morality and upholding high standards, I’m thinking of his body and what I want to do to it.
“You’re my type, Aarabelle.” My name on his lips halts my heartbeat for a second. Then another. I don’t breathe. “You’ve been my type. You don’t have to worry about your career being in jeopardy. I’m not telling anyone anything. So, if the fact that I think you’re the hottest fucking creature on Earth gets out, that’s on you.”
“That’s…well, that’s a strong statement.”
“Don’t fling the rules around. I know the fourth decree by heart. I’m not breaking any of them.”Yet,I think. His admission only sets my thoughts on fire. Can I go there? Without going there? Of course. But it’s a step into dangerous waters.
“Fine. I think you’re hotter than Henry Durnin,” I admit. “You’re built better.”
“I’m not a car, Dempsey,” he jokes. “But good to know. The guy seemed a little weak in the wrists in all the photos I saw.”
I roll over in bed, the phone making my ear hot. “I can’t believe you went online and looked for him. You definitely saw the photo then. And probably the fantastically ugly images of me plastered next to it.”
He clears his throat. That’s an affirmative. “He knows what he’s missing. Trust me. Guys don’t just let girls like you go and not think of them every day for the rest of their lives. That’s science.”
“Do you think of a woman every day? Is that why you don’t date? Is there someone out there taking up the corners?” It would make sense why it seems he guards his heart.
“No. All my corners have caution tape and venomous snakes,” he spits back.
“Okay, well that theory is out the window. Do you spend as much time talking to me as you do to your club chicks?”
There’s no hesitation. “No. Not at all. They don’t bring much to the table in the way of interesting facts.”
“You think I’m the hottest creature in the world and you think I’m interesting? How much have you had to drink tonight, Hart? You sure you’re okay right now?”
“I’m okay now,” he says.
“Okay,” I say back.
“I’m going to sleep,” he says. “I just needed to hear that you thought I was hot.”
“Real mature, Hart.”
“Listen, no one promised you maturity on the Teams. Just that you’d have the time of your life.”
“You’re going to give me the time of my life, or the Teams are?”
He laughs, and it makes my stomach flip. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” There’s a pregnant pause in which I’m questioning my sanity for at least the tenth time today. He says, “Working out early. I’m heading to bed.”
“Me, too,” I reply. “Before the sun rises.”
Hart is quiet again. “Night, Aara.”
