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“Are you hungry? I made a reservation at the restaurant while you were browsing.”
Declan got those familiar wrinkles on his forehead he often had when he wasn’t sure how to feel about something. I’d forgotten about the did-he-or-did-he-not-think-this-was-a-date internal war I’d waged with myself earlier, but now it was back with a vengeance.
“I can eat,” he said, and I breathed out a sigh of relief that it didn’t become a thing. If we ignored all these questions, all the little things we did that could seem to point to more than friends, then it wouldn’t exist. We could be blissfully ignorant, which maybe he already was and I alone needed to work on it. That was the more likely scenario.
I’d gotten us a table outside. The views of the Santa Monica Mountains were gorgeous. I listened while Declan rambled about all the art we’d seen, trying not to smile or stare at him too much for fear that if I did, he would stop. Sometimes Declan would forget to keep himself at arm’s length. It was something I noticed more than once. Like he had to try sometimes to keep those walls in place, and even though it was dangerous thinking, I wanted to help him knock them completely to the ground.
When the bill came and he said, “I’ll take it,” I had to bite my tongue not to argue. This was supposed to be my treat. I’d planned this day for us. I liked doing nice things for him. But I thought it would make Declan more comfortable, like he’d see this day more on even ground that way. “You buy the food we cook at your place, so I figure it’s my turn,” he added as the waiter left with his card.
“Well, I did force my friendship on you, so it’s the least I can do.”
“Letting me pay is the least you can do? And it’s basically been torture. I don’t know how I’m surviving it, to be honest.”
“No, I meant cooking, and now you’re hurting my feelings.” I pretended to wipe tears from my eyes.
“Just keeping it real, superstar.”
I laughed. The nickname was new. “Oh, you asshole. You can at least feign guilt.” We chuckled together, and when the waiter came back, I noticed his gaze kept shooting toward me, that familiar spark of recognition. It hadn’t been there before, so the only thing I could think of was that someone had pointed me out.
I bent my head forward, trying to nonchalantly avert my gaze. Not that I didn’t appreciate my position. I enjoyed talking to fans and signing autographs, but once one person started, it typically became more. My day with Declan had been so nice, and I didn’t want to ruin it.
He finished paying, and then we were on our way toward the outdoor gardens and exhibits. Luckily, the waiter didn’t say anything.
“He realized who you are at the end, didn’t he?” Declan asked, surprising me.
“Was it that obvious?”
“Not when I looked at him, but I noticed the change in you.”
“Really?” I hadn’t known it was something I showed outwardly.
“Yeah, you looked a little uncomfortable. Maybe because this is your everyday life and not a work event?” For some reason, I liked that he called it a work event as if it was the kind of job everyone had. “I’ve seen you in interviews and on red carpets, and you look completely at ease.”
We headed toward the maze garden. While I didn’t show it, I felt a smile in my chest. “You watch me in interviews and on red carpets?” My pulse fluttered against my skin in a way it had no business doing.
His eye twitched, which led me to believe he didn’t like that he’d admitted that. How often did Declan watch me? “Maybe like once…on accident. You’re impossible to avoid.”
“Oh, am I now? I figure it’s pretty hard not to find me when you spend your days googling my name. Is that why we rarely go to your place? Will I find a locked door and a shrine to me inside?”
“You wish.”
I wasn’t sure what it said about me that part of me did.
“Come on. I’m rather charming. It’s okay to be starstruck by me.” One of my very favorite things about him was that he wasn’t and never had been. My family treated me the same, of course, but there was a distinct difference in how other people treated me before fame and after, whether they knew me beforehand or not. Everyone except Declan.
“Nah, you’re kinda overrated, if you ask me.”
He snickered while I playfully pushed him. “I’m not overrated. I’m one of the most talented actors of my generation.” Or at least, that was what everyone said. Declan was fully laughing now, and so hard, he was bent over, clutching his stomach. “What’s so funny?” I crossed my arms, telling myself I wasn’t slightly annoyed when I really was.
