The Crush

Jace forced a sad smile. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were running away from me.”

We both panted. I flashed a nervous grin, not sure whether to laugh or cry.

His question was ironic.

Jace had been gone for three years, and he had the nerve to say I’d run from him? He was the one who’d run away.

Chapter 1

* * *

Farrah

Three-and-a-Half Years Earlier

“Whoa. Where are you going dressed like that?” Jace’s deep voice stopped me in my tracks.

Bingo.

He noticed.

A chill traveled down my spine as I answered, “The Iguana.”

“A bar. Interesting. I thought people wore clothes there.” Jace smirked, opening a pistachio. He popped the nut into his mouth before throwing the shell aside.

I looked down at the crop top that showcased my stomach. I’d worn it specifically to flaunt my new belly ring. My jean shorts barely covered my butt.

Pretending to be peeved, I said, “Last I checked, what I wear isn’t any of your business, Jace.”

“It is my business if I have to go beat some guy’s ass because he gets too drunk and puts his hands where they don’t belong.”

Jace was protective of me, which I both loved and hated. It would’ve been better if he didn’t look at me like a little sister, though. His attitude came from an innocent place. That’s the opposite of what I wanted. None of my feelings for this man were brotherly. But that was my little secret, I supposed.

“I’ll be fine.” I shrugged, opening the refrigerator and taking out a jug. I poured some water into a glass, feeling tingly because I could still feel his eyes on me, even if he was only concerned.

“I can’t tell you what to do…but speaking from a guy’s point of view, if I see a girl dressed the way you are now, it sends me a certain message about her. You know what I’m saying?”

Jace was clueless. Totally clueless. Little did he know he was the only guy whose attention I wanted lately. Anytime I dressed provocatively, it was an attempt to rile him up.

Ever since he’d moved in two months ago, getting Jace’s attention was one of my pastimes. But unlike the pistachios he was chomping on, he was a hard nut to crack. Sure, I’d caught him looking at me from time to time, but I never knew what he was actually thinking. And truly, I didn’t know what I was thinking trying to get him to notice me. Jace wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole—not just because he was living with us now, but because I was his best friend’s sister. Thus, he looked at me like a sister, too—which I hated. As much as he’d been like family over the years, I’d never looked at him like a brother. My attraction was too strong. I’d had a crush on him from the moment I’d met him, when I was probably around six.

“Last I checked,” I said, “the girls you hang out with don’t dress any more conservatively than this.”

He licked some of the salt off his lips. “Well, that’s…different.”

I cocked a brow. “How so?”

Jace’s jaw tightened. He didn’t have an answer.

Exactly.

I took the liberty of answering for him. “I know why you think it’s different. You seem to forget that I’m twenty-one now. Some of the girls you date are practically my age, but you don’t see me as mature, because when you left for college, I was twelve. That’s the person you remember.” I sighed. “I’m not twelve anymore. Reverse the numbers.”

My brother, Nathan, walked in at that moment. “I don’t care how old you are. You’re dressed like a whore.”

I rolled my eyes.

Jace glared at him. “Don’t say shit like that to her.”

“It’s my job to tell her the truth.”

“But you don’t have to use those words, jackass.”

I chuckled. “Yeah. Jace basically told me the same thing, except he was a lot nicer about it.” I gulped the last of my water and placed the glass on the counter. “Anyway, it’s hot as balls at The Iguana. Their air conditioning is sucky. Everyone dresses like this,” I lied.

They looked at me in unison, both with skeptical expressions.

Jace and Nathan had been best friends since childhood. He and my brother were six years older than me. I’d spent the majority of my preteen years lusting after Jace in secret. In those days, he’d come over to the house all sweaty after football practice, and my hormones would mimic Mexican jumping beans. Whenever he’d so much as talk to me, I’d get weak in the knees. If you looked at my diary entries from back then, there was something about Jace on every other page. Wanting someone and knowing I couldn’t have him had been pure torture. Especially during those last couple of years before Jace went away to college, I was hopelessly lovesick.