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“What’s The Vers?”
“Nothing.” I quickly continued, hoping she forgot that name. “And he’s hot, of course he is, but that doesn’t mean anything. There are a billion hot guys in this world, and I don’t want to date them just like I don’t want to date Declan.” My phone buzzed in my ear, and I pulled it away to see a text come through. “Holy fuck. I have to go. He’s texting me. He doesn’t ever text me first.”
Brooke laughed again. “Nope, you don’t have at least a tiny crush on this guy at all. I’ll talk to you later, bro. Love you.”
“I love you too.” I ended the call, ignoring her comment, and clicked on my messages.
Declan: Hey.
Hey. Hey? That’s what I was freaking out about? I grabbed a couch pillow, pressed it into my face, and screamed into it. What in the world was wrong with me? I was suddenly losing my shit.
Me: Hey to you too.
Jesus, that was a stupid thing to say. I couldn’t sound cooler than that? And why the fuck was I worried about that? I’d never overthought things like this before.
Declan: Haven’t heard from you, so I thought I’d check in…since we’re friends and all.
He hadn’t heard from me because I’d forced myself not to message him, but that truth bomb was staying with me.
Me: It’s been a busy week.
Lie.
Me: Are you at work?
It was evening, and he usually was. He worked four to five days a week, sometimes closing and sometimes not.
Declan: Yeah, on a break.
Well, he was talkative. I was still surprised he’d been the one to text me first. Maybe that meant something, like he wanted to talk or hang out or hell, hook up.
Me: I’ll be up late. Did you want to come over tonight?
As a friend, of course.
Declan: I probably shouldn’t. It’s been busy, so I’m kinda tired.
“What do you want?” I yelled at the phone, then sort of wanted to slam myself in the head with it. I was losing my mind.
Me: Do you think you can get off work on Saturday? It’s okay if not, but I was looking into some other things to do, and I found a few that could be fun. It’s your job as my only friend to accompany me on these missions.
Jesus, I’d just called the guy my only friend. I really needed to get a life.
Declan: LOL. Accompany you on your missions, huh? Well, I guess since I have no choice, I’ll have to find a way to make it happen.
I smiled. A big smile that made my cheeks hurt. Over what, I couldn’t totally say, but I couldn’t hold it back regardless.
Me: Okay, sounds good. I’ll text you later, and we can figure out times.
Declan: Talk soon.
I sat there for a minute, staring at my phone like a big, dopey idiot. I’d never had this before. I dated girls in high school and up until I started sleeping with Declan. Then it was private hookups with people who could be discreet. Not dates that weren’t dates and text messages for anything more than saying hi or making plans to have sex. When I came out, everyone I went out with was tied to the entertainment industry, and that somehow made it different from what I shared with Declan. Neil and I had met at an awards show and went home together and then just fell right into a relationship.
I was thirty-two years old, and I’d never sat watching my phone, wondering if a guy would call. I’d never planned fun things to do or gossiped with my sister, wondering if someone did or didn’t like me. Until now, I’d never felt that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling everyone talked about. I’d liked boys in high school but never someone I expected to return the feelings, which made it different…and scary as fuck. This would likely end in disaster. But how sad was it that I’d gone so many years without knowing this feeling?
My phone buzzed again.
Declan: There’s no way I’m your only friend, and if so, that says more about other people than it does you.
The butterflies started throwing a fucking party in my gut. It didn’t feel like a disaster. It felt perfect. I hoped like hell it wasn’t a mistake.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Declan
Saturday morning, I was scrolling through my texts with Sebastian, wondering what in the hell had gotten into me. It had felt strange that we hadn’t seen each other since we’d gone to the museum, and I’d been worried about that. Worried I’d done something wrong and he’d walk away like nearly everyone did.
The fact that I cared was really stressful to think about and almost made me text him again to tell him never mind, that we couldn’t meet up—and to just stop spending time with him—but I wasn’t doing that. No, I’d just finished getting dressed so I could drive to his place for whatever Sebastian had planned for us. Because again, like with the museum, he wouldn’t tell me. It was a surprise, and I was supposed to hate that, but the buzzing beneath my skin didn’t seem to get the memo.
