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Parker’s knee innocently bumps into mine just then, and I have to force myself to stay calm. He continues engaging Lauren in conversation as if nothing is happening. My palms start to sweat, and I struggle to remember what Lauren is talking about. Wanting to visit Italy, I think?
Parker’s fingers move higher up my leg, his hand hidden by the tablecloth. My heart beats faster in my chest. We’re playing with fire, but Parker seems to be enjoying it.
“Chloe, you and I should go together,” Lauren suggests brightly. I feel my cheeks instantly start to heat at being the center of her attention. The more she focuses on me, the more likely it is that she’ll pick up on my anxiety and then become suspicious. “Wouldn’t a girl’s trip to Italy be fun?”
I manage a smile and nod, not trusting myself to speak while Parker’s fingers draw imaginary lines on my thigh.
After bumping his hand aside and swallowing hard, I finally manage to choke out, “That sounds like a great idea.”
Lauren grins and dives into a monologue about some of the best destinations in Europe. It’s a relief when she stops paying such close attention to me, and I’m able to let my attention wander back under the table.
Parker hasn’t been deterred. His hand now rests comfortably on my knee, and he sends electric shocks all over my body each time he gives it a squeeze. He’s teasing me, challenging me even. Daring me to play this game with him.
Our food arrives, and thank goodness for that. Parker is forced to withdraw his hand. I take a deep breath, feeling as though I’ve been underwater for too long.
Parker starts working on his lasagna with an innocent look plastered on his face—the absolute audacity! There’s a twinkle in his eye that tells me he’s far from done. That’s fine, because neither am I. Two can play at this game.
As I reach for my water glass, I let my hand brush his ever so slightly. His eyes flicker to mine, a glint of surprise in them. He recovers quickly, though, his lips curving into a slow smile.
Bring it on, Parker; it’s war now.
I dig into my salad while devising my plan of attack. All thoughts of panic regarding our secret are completely forgotten. This game of ours takes precedence, pushing all other concerns to the back of my mind.
Lauren talks about some art exhibit she visited in Paris once, but I’m only half-listening. Instead, I’m focusing on Parker. The way he digs his fork into his pasta and brings it to his mouth so slowly, so deliberately. He’s trying not to show it, but I can tell he’s anticipating my next move.
Once Lauren starts a story about getting lost in Rome, I seize my opportunity. I slip my foot over to his under the table. For a moment, I just let it rest against his leg. Then, ever so slowly, I run it up his calf. His eyes shoot to mine immediately, and he almost chokes on his lasagna.
Thankfully, he recovers quickly before Lauren notices or asks what’s wrong. Clearing his throat, he continues to chat with his sister as if nothing has happened, but there’s a new glimmer in his eye now, along with that smug smile that has grown even wider.
I continue to stroke my foot along his calf. I’m not able to move too much because of the awkward position, but it’s still enough to affect him. He suddenly maneuvers his leg to pin mine against the booth, trapping me. My breath leaves me in a rush, and I duck my head to my salad, pretending to give it my full attention.
Before I can make another move, Lauren pipes up again with a laugh. “Parker, you’ve got sauce on your cheek!”
I feel Parker’s hold on my leg tighten momentarily before he releases me. When Lauren finally looks away from us and resumes her storytelling, Parker and I lock eyes again. I can tell that he’s enjoying himself, and I hate to admit that I’m enjoying myself much more than I should.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you until just now.” Lauren sighs, her tone turning suddenly somber. “Bethany is coming home for the Fourth. Mom is insisting on it, I guess.”
The atmosphere around us shifts in an instant. The playful gleam leaves Parker’s eyes, and he turns to stare at Lauren with a mixture of shock and disbelief on his face.
“What?” he snaps. “Why would she insist on Bethany coming home?”
Lauren shrugs. “I don’t know, you’d have to ask Mom.”
Bethany…I remember Bethany.
Parker’s twin. I haven’t seen her since high school. I have no idea where she’s been or why Parker doesn’t seem exactly thrilled for her to be coming home. As curious as I am, though, I don’t pry. Parker is shutting down before my eyes, turning inward and quiet. There are no more playful touches or subtle flirting. The tension at the table grows thick and cold, and I’m not exactly sure what I should do to try and break through it. So, I don’t do anything. I pick at my salad and sit in the cloying silence, eager for this dinner to be over.
Chapter twelve
Parker
The next day, I’m still fuming as I drive through town to my mom’s house. Hearing that Bethany is coming home instantly soured my mood and ruined the rest of dinner the night before. I was so agitated and angry that I couldn’t even enjoy Chloe’s company after that bombshell was dropped. She ended up going home as soon as we reached my house and she could get her car, as if she instinctively knew it was better if she just left me alone.
Seeing her car pull away, I’d felt a pang of regret. She was the one person who could make everything better. Just her presence alone would’ve been enough to calm my nerves, but I couldn’t do that to her. I didn’t want to pull her into my family’s drama. It’s not like she’s my girlfriend or anything. Adding unnecessary stress onto her would be unfair and selfish, so in the end, I’m happy she left when she did.
As I navigate the familiar streets to my mom’s house, my grip tightens on the steering wheel with each passing block. It’s hard to ignore the growing sense of dread building up in me. Anticipation gnaws at me as I remember Bethany’s departure years ago, an abrupt and unpleasant memory that still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
Parking the car outside the white picket fence surrounding the house, I sit for a moment to stare at its cheery façade. It’s such a sharp contrast to the conflict I’m feeling that it almost seems to be mocking me. The very thought of Bethany walking through those doors again is too jarring. What would we even say to each other? How would we interact? Our last interaction had been so bitter and strained that us having anything after that seemed impossible.
