Smoothing my skirt, I say, “Morning, you have one more experiential lesson in the program. I checked your agenda this afternoon and it’s clear. I have to observe you in a public setting, performing a business transaction or something similar in a professional manner. I arranged an interview, figured you could show the world there’s more to you than the mastermind behind #BruiserButt.”
I can’t quite read Declan’s expression, but his shoulders aren’t pressed back in his usual upright posture. “Wolf can take credit for that.”
“Coach Hammer wants you to reform your reputation, so I did some research and found Blair Covell, who can help spread the word. She’s well-connected and has written a few pieces on other big names.” My inner troll adds that she’s also beautiful, has zero flaws, and is perfect for Declan. The Official BlancbourgGuide for employees doesn’t say anything forbidding client and journalist dalliances.
Declan’s expression is somewhat slack. “I’ve heard of her. This is a purely professional meeting?”
“Yep. Coach’s rules stand and so do Cateline’s.”
He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “You want to revert to the rules? Are you suggesting we pretend we didn’t kiss? That we don’t—?” He waves his finger between us.
“You made a pact with the guys. I have to keep my job. That means we can only be friends.”
“You can’t square a circle, Maggie.” With his forefinger aiming upward, he spins it between us.
“You can’t get kicked off the team.”
Declan’s shoulders drop as if he knows I have a point. “Of course. I overstepped. That wasn’t appropriate. So, we’ll pretend it didn’t happen.” He casts his gaze past me like if we make eye contact, his lips will be on mine faster than he’d run the football down the field.
“So, we’re just friends,” I say to clarify.
“Still friends.” His tone is clipped.
“Friends do things like hang out, watch football games, grab pizza.” I try to sound normal, but I’m a few octaves too high.
“Sure. We won’t do anything friends wouldn’t do.”
“We might want to define whatfriendmeans.” His lips float toward amusement.
“Ha ha. You know what friend means.” I try to be dry and non-flirty.
“I figure we should clarify. Do friends do things like this?” Declan leans in and our lips crash together.
I can’t resist the gravitational pull as if there’s anusat the center of the universe. His scent, his rough touch, his soft brown eyes. Declan’s hands grip the sides of my arms, his chest risesand falls, and with his lips on mine, instead of feeling like a washed-up fairytale princess, I feel like a queen.
My fingers explore his jawline and then wrap around the back of his neck. My heart hammers against my ribs and my thoughts float away.
“I like this version of friendship,” Declan practically growls.
And cut scene!
“Best friends don’t swoon or crush or kiss or...”
“I say best friends should kiss. Often.”
Declan kisses me again. For the record, his lips should be illegal. I’ll put out an all-points bulletin later to make sure the world knows to stay away from his lips—mostly because I want to be the only one allowed access. I’ve known Declan for almost a decade and never thought about what it would be like to kiss him until recently. Okay, maybe once or twice, but I didn’t think it would be like this.
The kiss intensifies and deepens. I’m upside down and inside out. The world brightens and darkens at the same time. I don’t think we’re breathing.
*Faints*
Okay, I don’t actually lose consciousness, but I can’t let this go further. I lean back slowly and we pull apart. Although Declan’s lips are no longer on mine, he doesn’t move away. Rather, he wraps his arms low around my waist like he doesn’t plan to let go.
“You and I were inseparable senior year and then went our separate ways. We were insta-friends and now is this insta-love?” I ask.
“No, this built over time. We’ve been the only solid thing in each other’s lives.”
I try to understand, to rationalize what’s happening. Attraction developed between when we last saw each other and now. But something is different.
