Page 145 of While You Were Trending

More likely to be olives though.

“Bed,” I say.

He squeezes my ass again. “Is it safe?”

“Shut up and get in my bed with me.”

He’s laughing silently as he straightens, but I pull my shirt off—his shirt, the shirt so big that it fits me like a dress—and his laughter dies away as he looks at me.

Visibly swallows.

Goes hooded-eyed.

Adjusts his cock.

“Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are?” he whispers.

I flinch a little, then cringe at my flinch. “Sorry. Sorry—I—Caro’s the pretty one. I?—”

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he repeats. He traces a finger over the edge of my simple bra, making my breasts swell and my skin erupt in the best kind of goosebumps. “You always were.”

“Stop,” I whisper.

His hand stills, and he searches my eyes with his. “Stop touching, or stop telling you the truth?”

I bite my lip.

I’m ruining the moment.

It’s slipping away.

He shoves away the pile of clothes beside me, and then he’s pulling me into his lap, phone in hand.

I shiver. “No—” I start, but he presses a kiss to my shoulder as he flips open his photo roll, a silenttrust me, I would never hurt youthat settles into my bones and helps me draw a full breath.

“Look,” he murmurs three swipes later, and then I’m staring at an awkward, gangly, pimple-faced kid in a hockey uniform.

His hair’s a mess in that way only teenage boys can manage when they’re trying to be messy-cool, and he’s scowling at the camera, the slightest bit of braces showing, in a way that makes my heart ache.

Declan.

No older than fifteen, I’m sure.

He was an ugly duckling too.

“I want to hug him,” I whisper.

“He would’ve hugged you right back,” he murmurs into my hair. “He always thought you were you beautiful. He always wanted to be your friend.”

There are very, very few people in this world that I’d believe could’ve thought I was beautiful in my teenage years.

But Declan?

I believe him.

I trust him.

With all of me.