“Wow,” I say, becoming monosyllabic. “Yeah, that’s…” I nod my head into oblivion.
Declan peeks at me from the corner of his eye and then breaks, descending into abrupt laughter. The warm rasp of it is boyish in a way that makes my cheeks heat.
I am so far gone, I think helplessly.
“Okay, well!” he protests, still laughing. “I can’t be the only one who admits something. What was the moment for you?”
Oh gosh. I contemplate diminishing the truthful answer. It would be easy to. I’ve been lying to myself for so long about my feelings for him that it is kind of hazy, but I decide starting our relationship with half-truths would be a bad idea and risk it.
“I think the real answer might freak you out, but for the longest time, I didn’t believe you’d ever see me in that way, and I also didn’t want to risk ruining the friendship.” I sneaka glance at him to weigh his reaction. It’s unbearably kind. His eyes squint in concentration, and his body language is perfectly at ease, unhurried.
“Mm-hmm. I didn’t want to ruin it either,” he says. “But come on, that wasn’t an answer. You’re acting like a politician right now.”
“Well, if you want me to be completely honest with you—”
“Which I do.”
“Then… I honestly can’t remember a time when I wasn’t a little bit obsessed with you.”
The sound of a wave breaking is the only thing that dares make noise in the wake of my confession, and I think I might fall forever through the empty space, until finally, Declan breaks into a grin and catches me.
“You’re joking,” he teases.
“I’m not.”
“No, be serious with me right now. You’re telling me that when I was five years old and had thick black-framed glasses attached to me via necklace and my two front teeth weren’t close enough to be considered neighbors, you were ‘a little bit obsessed’ with me?” he challenges, eyebrows raised.
“Yes! Dead serious!”
“And this is our first date, why?” he shouts at the sky.
“Because! You know why!” I say instead of the actual answer.
“Because…?” he challenges again with a teasing smile, refusing to let it go.
“Because so many girls threw themselves at you and they were all so impossibly pretty, and you still didn’t want them. So, I took it as evidence that if you didn’t want them, you definitely didn’t want me. Actually, no. You know what it was?” I say, more to myself than him. “I thought you enjoyed my friendship because it was a nice escape from all the unwantedattention you got. So, I wasn’t going to be the idiot who added to your list of people you needed to avoid.” I laugh to ease the honesty of my admission.
I look down, focusing on drawing circles in the sand.
Without speaking, he takes my chin in his hand and turns my face to him.
“Blair,” he pleads. “Youare impossibly pretty. And I know I never acted on it, but trust that I always wanted to. You are the only girl whose attention I wanted, before I even knew other girls existed. And even after discovering other girls did, and do in fact, exist, the same is true. It’s always been you for me.” His green eyes don’t so much as waver. It’s like he refuses to blink until I believe him.
I try my best to soak it in. To stare back into his eyes and accept that what I wanted my entire life was happening. But I rasp out a breathless laugh, shaking my head out of his grasp.
“Now that we’re… dating, I don’t think you’re supposed to know that other girls exist.”
He pins me with a glare, playfully shoves my shoulder.
“You are impossible to compliment,” he says, exasperated.
“No, no. I’m sorry. You’re right. I am impossibly pretty,” I say.
He throws his head back with laughter. “Okay, but I’m serious,” he says, voice level. “You’ve seen me through every stage of life, and you never preferred me more or less based on how football was going. It sounds so stereotypical, but you saw the way people at school went from not paying attention to me at all, to gawking at me in the hallways after winning championships. If they said my name, it was because the word football was attached to it. I never liked that. I still found myself only caring about what you thought of me. And it wasnever the football you cared about. The way you spoke to me never changed.”
“Of course not, Declan. That stuff is awesome but it’s kind of irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. At least, inasmuch as it relates to my obsession with you,” I say not so ironically. “I’m proud of your accomplishments, don’t get me wrong. But you could do anything and I would find it impressive. You know that.”
He smiles like the sentiment is still novel to him. Special and new.
