“So I can slow down.”
His gaze holds mine—steady, serious, and softer than I’ve ever seen it.
Warmth spreads through my chest as we move closer, his arms coming around me, my head resting against his chest. For a moment, everything quiets—
Until a choking, burning smell drags me back to the reality of the kitchen.
"The chicken is burning," I whisper.
He glances at the oven then back at me.
"Let it burn."
But he pulls away anyway, rescuing what turns out to be hockey-puck chicken and pasta that looks undercooked and overcooked simultaneously. We end up ordering Chinese, sittingon his obscenely white couch, laughing about his complete inability to follow a recipe.
"I don't understand," I say between eating spoonfuls of rice. "You're a professional athlete who has nutritionists. How are you this bad at cooking?"
"Riley and Rowan usually handle the nutritionists and food when Riley is not in her experimental cooking phase."
He shrugs, his lips curving into a devastating grin. My stomach flips.
"And when they're not around, there's always takeout."
"You're hopeless."
He steals a piece of tender meat from my plate.
"Maybe. But I'm good at other things."
My mind immediately fills in a dozen possibilities—all the things he’s probably good at. And that’s the problem. Aside from tonight’s nerves, there’s nothing I can’t imagine doing with Declan. I can imagine everything.
And nothing about the way my body responds to him feels like practice. The way he looks at me—like I’m precious, like I matter—doesn’t feel temporary.
That terrifies me.
Because I’m also falling for King. Still texting him every night. Still craving his intellectual intimacy. Still building careful fantasies about finally meeting him.
I’m falling for two men at once.
And the guilt is eating me alive.
"You went somewhere," Declan says, pulling back to the present. "Where did you go?"
"Nowhere. Just thinking."
"About?"
"About how this is supposed to be practice but feels like more."
A flash of disappointment crosses his features. "Would it be bad if it's more?"
Yes.
No.
I don't know.
"Isn't the point to build my confidence so I can meet King?" I ask instead.
