At my silence, Declan looks over at me. “Are you okay? I don’t mean to scare you, I just want to let you know where my head is at.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “No, that makes sense. It’s just…” I shake my head. “I don’t want to be second fiddle to football, you know?”
I feel like I walked off a cliff saying that out loud. But then, Declan exhales, looking sorry. “Hey, come here.”
I obey immediately, climbing on top of him. He chuckles at my sudden conviction, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob with the movement. His hands drift to my waist, supporting my weight as I hover above him.
“You won’t ever come second to anything. Okay?” he says from under me.
I nod, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. He reaches up to palm my cheek and I lean into it.
“You’ll always come first,” he breathes. “Nothing tops you.”
My cheeks heat and I hope the darkness hides it. The only natural response I feel is to say the forbidden L word, but I know it’s too early, so I fold over him to stop myself. Our chests meld and warmth spreads through me. Sometimes the weight of love is more frustrating than pleasurable.
I turn my head in the sand by his ear and only manage to mouth the wordsthank you.
“One day, when I’m playing football, you’ll be an author. I’ll be reading your books every second I’m not on the field,” he says softly, wrapping his arms around my back and holding me against him.
I’m robbed of speech. There’s frustration in not being able to communicate how much his words mean to me. I’m grateful words aren’t the only way to communicate.
I kiss his temple, softly at first, and then move to his cheek. After that, I kiss his forehead and slowly drift down to his nose.
“Please, Blair,” he grinds out.
“Please, what?” I ask, feigning innocence.
“Please,” he begs. “Kiss me now.” Yearning coats his expression so intensely that it looks like he might die.
I let out a full-bodied belly laugh. His unhidden longing is disarming in a way I can’t resist.
I still, elbows bending beneath me, causing my full weight to lower on top of him. I prop up my upper half, shuffling my forearms in the sand beside his face. In the time it’s taken me to readjust, Declan’s face is filled with even more anguish.
“End me now,”he says, as if to himself before impatiently curling his fingers around the nape of my neck and pulling me down to meet his lips.
The kiss is hungry and searching, and I feel everything with a new level of intensity. I become aware that this is the point of no return. The one that starts and ends my ability to enjoy anyone or anything else with this much fervor.
This moment, with the waves lapping gently to shore, and the deep darkness, is too perfect. Completely on our own, thestars as our only witnesses to the moment I’ve dreamt of for years.
Declan, who I never imagined reciprocating my feelings, is beneath me. Opening himself up to me in rare and precious ways, finally letting the mysterious curtain drop between us.
It fills me up so quickly that, for a moment, I feel weary. Unsure that I can trust something so perfect to stay.
“You’ll always come first.” I repeat the sentiment he offered me earlier, holding on to the promise with a grip that hurts.
The truth is, I have more faith in the probability of his leaving than this moment being the catalyst of his staying.
Chapter 11
You still use those?” I hear myself ask.
The tiny bell above the doors chimes as I walk into the coffee shop at seven p.m. Declan is bent over the counter, pencil behind his ear. I follow his gaze to see a small notebook open before him.
He doesn’t look up; the pause of his foot tapping is the only clue that he’s heard me. It’s so dark in here, I think to myself. The glow of a floor lamp is just enough light to see his shadowy figure. He’s lurking in here like a vampire who doesn’t want to be seen.
“What, pens?” he says finally, without looking up from his notebook.
“No. The journals.”
