I stand and shake my head. “Nah, but thank you for making sure I wasn’t locked in my own home.” I pause. “And for listening.” I get the idea Declan doesn’t have many people open up to him like I did. I don’t want to take it for granted.
“That’s what friends are for,” he says and walks out my front door. My health and the ongoing missing weapons were freaking me out. Being with Declan helped me forget about that fear, that worry. Even just for a short while.
I close the door and I’m both heartened and crestfallen.
Declan, who used to be a thorn in my side, who seemed to give no one any patience or care, came over to check on me. He is watching out for me. He is afriend.
I’m still new in town. Having another friend is a good thing. It also hurts. Because I know – I have known – that I like him as more than a friend. That kiss in Copenhagen sealed it for me. And now I have to either pine away for him in this interminable friend zone or find someone who thinks of me that way. After telling him about my medical issues, there is no way he would ever consider me romantically. Who would? My personality may be low maintenance but my body is the opposite.
So long, friend. See you at work tomorrow.
Yeah.Friend.
32
CHARLIE
It’s not a date, I tell myself as I pack up my desk promptly at 5 p.m. on Friday afternoon. If it was a date, I would be nervous and there would be expectations.
I plop my phone into my purse, push in my chair, and quietly tiptoe away from my desk. Oliver, Declan, and Finn are all meeting in Oliver’s office to review budget numbers.
I don’t want to make a big announcement about leaving on time. Thursday and Friday were markedly better in terms of my muscle pain and fatigue. Maybe it really was just jet lag and the new level of physical exertion. Still, I made meticulous notes for my next appointment.
Oliver asked me on Thursday if I needed another work-from-home day and I declined. Ian dropped a box of vitamin C mix on my desk. Misguided, but it’s nice to know the team is looking out for me.
I tried to thank Declan again for stopping by, but he cut me off, instead focusing on potential targets within Rome that could be hit before, during, or immediately following the World Games. I tried not to show it, but the idea of an attack there has me terrified. My dad is coaching Team USA again. He’ll be there. It’s selfish. I don’t want anyone to be a victim. But I really, really don’t want my dad to be one.
Declan has kept a professional distance. Which tells me what I need to know. The kiss in Copenhagen truly was a mistake, or at least he sees it that way. His coming over the other day was him checking on my safety. Nothing more.
It’s not a date, I tell myself again, as I make it to my car and crank up the A/C so I don’t sweat on my drive over.
Mercifully, the green lights are timed in my favor and I arrive a little early. The gravel and seashells that cover the parking lot crunch beneath the tires of my car. I cut the engine and flip the visor down to check my face.
In the tiny mirror, I pinch at my eyebrows and assess their shape. “It’s not a date,” I remind myself aloud as I reach into my purse for my lipgloss.
I’ve dreamed of Declan each night since his visit. That he burst back into my apartment, throwing caution to the wind. That he would surrender his control and rules and lose himself in me. His ability to read a situation, to master a mission, to be steadfast and reliable is absolutely why I’m longing for him. And those hands: strong and protective.
Bury it, I tell myself.Put it up in the closet where the running shoes used to be.
I add a fresh layer of lipgloss and smooth my hair as best as I can.
“It’s not a date,” I say again to my reflection. I snap the visor shut and get out of the car.
I’m wearing my white jeans and a dark green silk button-down. Casual but dressy for a Friday. Not completely boring for going to the bar either. I’m hedging my bets. I still look nice, but I’m not going out of my way to change. Just in case Blaed doesn’t show.Because it’s not a date. We’re just hanging out.
Ana left this morning to work one of our ultra-marathons in Europe. I’m bummed she won’t be here as my buffer.
I enter the bar, remembering the last time I was there. My first week at FIRE. I was blissfully unaware of the other side of the business, of how serious things would become. I also knew my neighbor at work was a grump. Now I know that he’s guarded and that he let that guard down ever so slightly for me. Even if he won’t ever want anything more from me, I know I’ll hold on to those few moments between us.
I make my way up to the bar and order a club soda with lime. The bartender, a different one, not Ana’s girlfriend, gives me a wink and a nod. I’m always grateful for bartenders who don’t think twice when I order a non-alcoholic drink.
I take a refreshing sip and there is a light tap on my shoulder. I turn and there is Blaed. Handsome as ever.
“I’m glad you didn’t stand me up,” Blaed says by way of greeting. That familiar sagebrush and lupine scent cuts through the smells of the bar. I feel my eyebrows relax; I hadn’t realized I’d been stress-scowling while I waited.
“I would never,” I respond, and turn on my flirting. It’s a little forced, a little rusty. I’ve been too tongue-tied around Declan to flirt back much. If he was even flirting with me at all.
“How was your week? Put out anyfireslately?” Blaed leans against the bar, his biceps popping out with the motion. His green eyes are fixed on me. The other women around me shoot daggers; they’re envious that I have his attention. I should be flattered, but my mind is playing tricks on me, picturing Declan making the same move, saying the same thing.
