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"Ah, pizza," he breathes. "Thank goodness."
"It's my motivation," I add.
I slide my slice onto a plate and pass the box to him. He takes a huge bite of a slice and closes his eyes, looking like an absolute heathen. "Hmm. So good. We've barely eaten all day. I'm starving."
I watch him a little longer as he polishes off two more pieces of pizza. When he stops eating, he tilts his head at me. "What?"
My shoulders lift, and I can't stop a giggle from leaving my mouth. "I guess I just pictured you as more of a strictly lean protein guy. You know, since you're so... fit."
He looks down and grips his shirt with both hands, flexing. "Do you like it?"
When my jaw drops, he releases a small chuckle, and my body throbs. Deacon is gorgeous and he knows it. Actually, no, that's not fair. He has never once boasted about his looks, and maybe that's part of why he's attractive. When men boast, it's unattractive, but the self-deprecating tone he has is cute.
"I—" The words die in my throat as he steps forward and grabs another slice of pizza. He's too close, his scent too strong, and his broad shoulders and back dwarf me. When he looks back over his shoulder, his bangs spill over his forehead, and the light catches his sparkling irises.
I finish my pizza, trying to keep up some appearance of normalcy, but my mind can't stop wandering. All of a sudden, I want to jump up on the desk and pull him to me, to kiss his sly smirk away. That's a horrible idea, so I just say, "You were always a gym rat in school. Didn't seem like you had time for pizza."
"I’m all about staying in shape, but you still have to live a little. What about you? You were always in great shape. Must have been good genes, I guess."
"What?" I scoff. "I twirl in a circle, then move my hands from head to toe. "This? I worked hard for this."
He crosses his muscular arms across his chest and puffs out a snide laugh. "Right, like you worked for those straight As and the record times you set at the track meets."
"Yes!" I cry, setting my feet and raising my voice. "No one handed anything to me. I worked my butt off for it all. But I had an unhealthy mindset when I was young. I would stay up all night long studying just to make sure I got grades as good as yours, you know.”
“I had really high expectations for myself. My parents actually never put pressure on me, I put it on myself. I don't even know how the competition with you started exactly, but once it did, it was on." I laugh.
Deacon cuts in. "Are you kidding me? I always worked myself to the bone trying to keep up with you and I just never could get ahead. It's why I did actually cheat that one time."
I gasp. "Deacon Reynold. I knew it!"
"I was exhausted from it all and wanted just once to take the easy way out." I sprawl out on the ground like I've just run a marathon to elicit some sympathy.
"You poor guy." I sputter out a laugh and shake my head. "And to think I thought you were just a genius. I guess the joke is on both of us, huh?"
"Do you want me to apologize? Fess up to my parents?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
"No. Of course not, Being right about it is enough for me," I joke.
I look him over, my eyes still drawn to his abs and bulky muscles. You can see them even through his shirt, and it's ridiculously unfair. "I just think it's interesting that neither of us knew that the other was suffering. We were two competitive kids who never considered the other side.”
"Huh." Deacon laughs and rubs the back of his neck as he searches my face. I hope I don't look as flustered as I feel, but my breathing is coming out in short, nervous breaths.
But then he breaks the moment with a small smile, and with that comes a new energy. Deacon plants his palms on the credenza and leans on it, coming only a little closer. Just enough to make a sharp feeling claw its way up my stomach.
"What do you think would've happened if we'd have had this conversation back then?" I ask before I can talk myself out of it.
He raises his eyes in an almost daring way. His strong shoulders roll forward, pressing his chest so his pecs pop forward. "You really wanna go there?"
I do. It's kind of dumb, but I'm curious, and right now, I want to revel in what might have been if I had tried to see things from his point of view back then. High school Harper would probably still be trying to win, but more mature Harper just asks, "What would've been different?"
For a split second, I see a flash of vulnerability in Deacon's eyes. The dark hair at the edges of his temples catches the light as he rocks back on his heels. Then he walks slowly toward me. His eyes are fixed on mine, making the hairs on my arms and legs stand on end. "Well, I can only imagine things going one of two ways..."
My breath feels trapped as he takes his final steps, closing the distance between us. He's close enough now for me to smell him. There's a hint of cologne, but underneath, it's all male.
He takes a strand of my hair and gently tucks it behind my ear before whispering, "Scenario number one. I tell you that you're the most beautiful girl I've ever met and that my heart did a somersault the first time I laid eyes on you. That I’ve had a crush on you for as long as I can remember. And I say I'd like to get to know you better. Then I steal a kiss and melt your heart. Sound good?"
Butterflies fill my stomach, and I lower my lids before slowly opening them. His dark hair hangs in his face, but it does nothing to hide the sincerity in his gaze. Licking my lips, I stand my ground and mumble, "What's scenario number two?"
