I let myself melt into his words for three full seconds before my body’s hardwiring kicks back in.
“Are you sure that’s theonlything that terrifies you about being with me? I can name a few more if you need help.” My attempt at veering the conversation out of serious territory fails before it’s even done leaving my mouth. Declan tilts his head at me with a knowing look and I know I can’t avoid the mixture of hope and panic growing in my chest. He knows all my tricks. And he doesn’t want to play when it comes to this.
“Sorry. It’s just a lot to take in. Yesterday morning I still thought I was leaving at the end of summer, and now…” I widen my eyes.
“I get it.” Declan squeezes my hand. “But promise me one thing.”
I nod up at him.
“Promise me you won’t run away again without an explanation.”
“Promise,” I say in a shallow breath.
The tension by his eyes seems to fade, and he looks at me like I’m a figment of his imagination.
And that makes things click. I ran away after our conversation about college; the prospect of both of us pursuing our goals seeming to tear us apart. And four and a half years later, he was still scared I would run away to chase those same ambitions. But circumstances changed, and so did my dreams. I wasn’t scaring him off by moving across the street from him, I was easing his biggest fears.
“Now, tell me, what was Pepperdine like for you?”
I laugh. Declan’s abrupt conversational habits were still so refreshing after all this time.
We spend the next four songs ignoring the beat as I tell him story after story about Roshi picking up guys at parties. About Faye being a fashion major who set up strange mannequins in random parts of Apartment 302. I would almost have a heart attack every time I went to the restroom in the middle of the night.
An older man shimmies up behind Declan and slaps him on the back. “It’s good to see you on the dance floor, buddy!” he says.
“No way! Mr. Lawson, it’s so good to see you.” Declan interrupts his own excitement to introduce me. “Mr. Lawson, this is Blair,” he says to the man. “Blair, meet the man who helped me walk again.”
My heart shudders. Both with heartbreak and relief. I’ve never been more grateful to someone I’ve never met before. I shake his hand and then watch as Declan talks with the mostanimated look on his face. I feel rightfully back in the place I always longed to be.
During a natural lull in conversation, I excuse myself and make my way back to find the dessert table. There are so many people who want to talk to him, being the son of the person hosting this event, and I’ve stolen him away for as much time as possible.
As I’m pushing through the crowd of swarming bodies, a hand grips my upper arm from behind.
“Blair,” a woman’s voice demands, and a cold sweat breaks out on my neck. I’d recognize that voice anywhere.
I spin around to find Gwen’s gorgeous face and tower of blond hair staring back at me with a grim expression.
“Mrs. Renshaw,” I say, practically bowing.
She smiles but it looks forced. “Can I offer you a drink? I want to talk somewhere a little quieter.”
“Oh,” I say in surprise. “No, that’s okay. I’m good with water.”
She presses her lips together and floats over to a sparser area. I follow her. Blood starts pounding in my ears. Seeing her up close makes me feel like the seventeen-year-old girl sitting on her porch again. I spent hours staring at the front door, patiently waiting for the chance to see her son. But instead, she swung the door open and told me Declan didn’t want to see me. That if I wanted what was best for him and his recovery, I would leave him alone. And I obeyed. A little too well.
“So, are you and Declan on again?”
The ball in my throat constricts. “On again?” I choke out.
“Sorry, is that not something the kids say these days?” she chortles. “On again? You know, like dating.”
“Oh!” My heart lurches. Gwen was always kind to me as a kid, but something about her aura right now feels threatening.Like I need to choose my words carefully. “Technically, I think Declan and I are on our first date for the first time in…” My voice goes quiet. “In four years. But I think the intention is to date again, yes.”
I hold my breath, not sure what I’m hoping for. Her approval, I suppose.
“Wow. You guys are brave.” She mumbles the last part as her eyes focus on something behind me, so as much as I want to clarify what that means, I don’t have the chance to.
She grabs a flute of champagne off a server’s tray and then looks back at me with a raise of her brows before taking a sip.
