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Annabelle
After spending the rest of Sunday afternoon overanalyzing every moment of the last twenty-four hours and fighting with Tommy over whether he should be allowed to stay up for the eight o’clock Kings game, I’m running on far too little sleep to wage a war, so we compromised. I allowed Tommy to stay up until half-time.
Of course, this resulted in a full-blown meltdown when I did put him to bed.
I should know better. In all reality, I do know better.
His routine is crucial to both of us. It’s the only thing that keeps us functioning. He usually does pretty well with small tweaks, especially for things he wants. But he did not want to miss the rest of the game, and the result was me spending the next hour trying to calm him and get him to relax for bed. By the time he finally falls asleep and I drop back down on the couch, the game is ending, and Declan is running off the field, having just won thirty-six to seven.
Go, Kings!
He has his helmet in his hand, and his sweaty dark hair is plastered to his gorgeous face. I guess that smile can make me melt even through a TV screen.
At least, I melt until a microphone is shoved in front of him and his mask slips in place. The perky sideline reporter asks a few questions about the game, but then she asks about me.
“So, Declan, does the beautiful ballerina who was on your arm last night have anything to do with the beast we saw on the field tonight? Is she in the stands cheering you on?” the reporter asks cheerfully.
I really don’t want to be annoyed that she’s touching his arm while asking him this or that her cleavage is a little too shoved in his face for my tastes, but I can’t help myself. Dammit. I try to shove that down. Jealousy has no business in a friendship, and that’s all Declan and I can ever be.
Friends.
I wonder if friends with benefits is still a thing.
Monday morning rolls around way too fast. Sleep deprivation is a real thing, and I’m seriously feeling the effects of having barely slept two nights in a row. Yup, two nights. Saturday night, because I was in Declan’s bed, and Sunday night because I couldn’t stop thinking about how I spent Saturday night. More specifically, what I was doing Saturday night. I don’t want it to be a mistake. It was a one-time thing. It was amazing. But now, it’s going to be a distraction—a massive reminder of what I don’t have room for in my life.
Tommy was grouchy and harder than usual to get moving this morning, which already had me in a mood before my phone rings as I’m pulling into the parking lot behind the studio. A glance at the screen shows me it’s Nattie. I hit the car’s Bluetooth and brace myself for hurricane Nattie. “Hey, Nat. I was going to call you later today. Listen, I can take over your class tonight if you need to be with Brady. How are the guys doing?”
“Hey, Belles,” she singsongs my name in typical Nattie fashion. “Brady hasn’t woken up yet. When Brina and I came downstairs today, we found an empty bottle of Jack, three empty shot glasses, and a sticky table. I’m thinking the guys tried to drink away their pain, and they’re apparently missing class this morning. I’ll let you know later how they’re doing. I should be okay to teach class tonight, but thanks for the offer.”
There’s an uncomfortable silence lingering in the air. “What’s on your mind, Nat? You’re never quiet.”
“So...” she drags the word out dramatically. “How was it?”
“How was what?” Son of a bitch. I spoke to Sabrina earlier this morning, and she promised she wouldn’t mention anything about Declan and me to Nat.
I can feel her eye roll through the phone. “Don’t play dumb with me, Annabelle Hart. I’m the blonde in this friendship, and I play that part better than you. First, the whole freaking world saw the pictures of you and my brother from the fundraiser. He was kissing your hand at the top of the staircase, and you two looked like you were going to light the city on fire. I mean, seriously, it was the most romantic picture I’ve ever seen. Then you show up at my house yesterday, with Declan in tow. Not to mention, you were in his clothes. And why the fuck weren’t you wearing shoes?”
“Jesus, Natalie. Take a damn breath.”
“Stop stalling, Belles. Was it good? Are you guys official? Does this make me Tommy’s aunt? I would rock being the favorite auntie,” she exclaims, excitement lacing each word.
“Nattie,” I cut her off before she has the chance to continue down the crazy-train tracks. “It was a one-time thing. It was a great night. We had a fun time. We’re friends, and we’re going to stay friends.” The words taste like lies, but I refuse to focus on that. “Besides, you’re basically Tommy’s aunt already. He adores you and doesn’t need me dating a member of your family to change that.”
“What the hell, Belles? Is my brother not good enough for you?” Natalie Sinclair can talk a girl in circles.
“Nat, listen to me. I’m only going to say this one time. Your brother’s a great guy, and I’m sure he’ll find his perfect soul mate when the time comes, but that’s not me. I don’t have the mental capacity for anything more than a friendship right now. Can we please move on to a different subject?”
She huffs out an annoyed breath. “Fine. But this conversation is not over, Belles.”
The call ends, and I’m left staring at the building in front of me.
What the hell just happened?
I grab my Mary Poppins bag off the front seat and decide to make a detour into Sweet Temptations for a cup of coffee... and maybe a donut or two.
When the bell over the door announces my entrance, I hear a voice from the back call out, “I’ll be with you in just a sec.”
It may smell even better in here today than it did on Friday. Amelia pushes through the swinging doors from the back, carrying a tray of muffins. “You are going to be so bad for my waistline,” I laugh. The muffins look like they’re ready for a photoshoot. Decadent and picture-perfect. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon swirls through the air, and I’m pretty sure I want to move my dance studio inside this building.
