‘We broke up,’ Zoë said flatly, taking a long pull of her drink and crossing her arms. Imogen put a hand on her shoulder.
‘Oh. I’m sorry.’
Zoë shot him an incredulous look.
‘No, honest. I’m not his biggest fan, but I know how you felt about him.’
Zoë swirled her drink. ‘Yeah, well, I thought I did too.’ She sighed. ‘Turns out a three-week fling on a TV show doesn’t necessarily equate to true love. I should’ve stuck with you and gone for the win like I’d planned.’
He grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently, and she gave him a small smile.
‘We would’ve had it in the bag,’ he said, and saw a hint of amusement creep into her eyes. He groped for something better to say. ‘You’re way too good for him anyway.’
‘God,’ Zoë said with a laugh, ‘this is painful. I don’t know what’s worse, getting dumped by a half-rate musician or getting comforted by my gay kind-of-ex-boyfriend. I suppose I should just be happy this isn’t being televised.’
Declan laughed with her. ‘Sorry, I’m bad at this.’ He glanced towards the door almost involuntarily.
‘Do you know if Oliver is coming?’ Eavie asked.
He shrugged, trying to act casual. ‘I dunno. Haven’t spoken to him since the show.’
‘Me neither, and I feel awful about how we left things,’ Eavie said.
Zoë rolled her eyes. ‘He was being a prick and you stuck up for yourself. You shouldn’t feel bad.’
Eavie fiddled with her hands. ‘Yes, well. I think the stress was getting to all of us.’
‘I know,’ Imogen said earnestly, ‘I started running out of outfits.’
‘Yeah, the outfits,’ Declan said, looking at Imogen instead of the door. ‘That’s what I was worried about.’
They rejoined the group in the living room. Maeve was lounging on a brightly patterned floor pillow and Declan plopped himself next to her, letting the girls take the last spots on the sectional.
He waited until the room was buzzing with conversation before turning to Maeve, and murmuring: ‘So, where’s Oliver?’
Maeve frowned. ‘I’m not sure he’s coming,’ she said. ‘I tried his phone again just now, but couldn’t get a hold of him. He was pretty busy this week; he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get away.’
‘Oh,’ Declan said woodenly, even as his heart sank. ‘Already rehearsing, then?’ He tried to sound aloof, even though he’d gone so far as to look through the upcoming schedule for Oliver’s dance company and knew their rehearsals wouldn’t start for another week. The thought of buying tickets to the next performance had crossed Declan’s mind more than once.
‘Well, actually…’ Maeve said, guilt etching her features, ‘he got the New York job, so he’s moving at the end of the month.’
‘Oh.’
Not only was Oliver not coming to the party, but he was moving across an entire ocean. Declan couldn’t find it in himself to be angry. It was fitting for Oliver to run off to New York and fulfil his lifelong dream. Declan couldn’t keep him from that – he was just a boy Oliver had kissed twice on a rather strange holiday.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Maeve said, putting a hand on his knee.
Declan nodded absently, his mind creating increasingly unrealistic scenarios of Oliver’s perfect life in New York as he tried to fight the sour taste building in his mouth.
He didn’t pay much attention to the party after that, choosing to focus on drinking and making sufficiently engaged facial expressions to keep the attention off him.
He didn’t know what he’d been thinking – that he’d come out and Oliver would come crawling back to him? He had come out for himself, and he had quit boxing for himself too. But Declan had thought that maybe without those obstacles between them, and after he’d apologised, there would be nothing stopping him and Oliver from picking up where they’d left off.
Ever since Paige had told him what she’d done, he’d held on to one last shred of hope – never once had he let himself consider that this would be the end for them.
Noticing his drink was empty again, Declan forced himself off the floor and walked to the kitchen, Imogen following behind him.
‘What is it?’ Imogen whispered when they were out of earshot of the others. ‘You’re back to zombie Declan, and I don’t like it.’
