“Not your dad?”
“Rhodes wasn’t pressuring me to be everything he wanted to be.”
“Fair.” I let my words dissolve into the air.
“Why’d you leave the party?” he wonders, and I turn to look at him. He’s shoving his hands into his pockets, his eyes glued to the sidewalk.
“You know me. Not the party type,” I lie; I tear my eyes away from him as he looks in my direction.
“Em.” Declan reaches out and touches my arm. His fingers linger on the jersey.
I stop walking.
I can feel his eyes on me, but I keep mine glued to the ground. I can’t look at him. I don’t want to look at him. If I do, I know I’ll see those eyes I’ve been melting into for longer than I care to admit. The eyes that dared me to tell him my secrets. The eyes that begged for forgiveness. The eyes that made me believe there was truth in his words.
“Em,” he repeats. His voice is softer this time, barely even a whisper. “Look at me.Please.”
Against my better judgment, I look up at him. And I was right… those damn eyes pull me in again. Only this time, there’s something hidden in them. Pity? Judgment? I’m not sure, but it doesn’t stop me from locking my eyes on his.
“What did she say to you?” he asks, and he doesn’t have to say who because we both already know. “Why do you let her get to you?”
Because she’s right.
“I don’t,” I lie.
“Don’t lie to me, Ember.” He shakes his head but keeps his eyes on me. “I may not know everything about you, but I know when you’re lying.”
The corners of his mouth lift up in a smile.
“You’re terrible at it,” he finishes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I grin, ignoring the tears that were previously forming in my eyes, “I’m a great liar.”
“Maybe… but not when it comes to me.”
I wish I could read him. I wish I could know if he’s like this with everyone or just me.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Nothing.” I sigh, and one of his eyebrows pops up as if to sayanother lie?
“I’ll tell you what’s going on in my head.” He takes a step toward me. “You… and if none of this is real.”
“What do you mean?” I question.
I know exactly what he means. Or at least I do from my perspective. For a while, I’ve felt like his eyes linger on my lips a little longer than they should. And when that happened, I’d wish he’d just bite the bullet and do it because if he did, he’d know there’s nothing to worry about.
“Like maybe I’m reading further into things than I should,” he says.
“And if you’re not?”
Even though they’re barely a whisper, my words shock me just as much as they shock him. Brin would be proud.
And there it is. His eyes linger on my lips again. Even though a few feet still separate us, I’ve never felt closer to him. If I had it in me, I’d take a step forward and press up on my toes. Take the risk and close the gap myself, but it will take more than one beer for me to do that.
“I hate that she gets to you.” He breathes, shifting closer to me. Barely, but enough for me to notice. “I wish you could understand how fucking beautiful you are.”
My breath catches in my throat.
