Five Years Ago
Declan picks me up at the house at seven p.m. just like he said he would.
I expected him to be waiting in his car as per usual, but when I throw open the front door, he’s standing stock-still beneath the soft glow of the porch light with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. He looks like a modern-day James Dean.
I actually mentally whistle.
Declan tightens his grip on the bouquet, crinkling the brown paper.
“If the look on your face means you’re reeling a bit, then you’re not the only one,” he says with a sweet lilt in his voice.
He knows exactly what to say to disarm his chronic charm and put me at ease.
He extends his arm, holding the bundle of cotton-candy-pink and blue hydrangeas out to me. I take in a sharp breath at the sight. My favorite flowers, because I’ve always loved how they look like colorful cotton balls from far away.
“Wow,” I exhale. “These are beautiful. How did you even get them?” We don’t have many hydrangeas in Seabrook.
“I’m glad you like them.” He leans in and gives me a quick peck on the cheek, the brief encounter with his warm sandalwood scent doing my heart rate zero favors. “Shipping is a crazy invention.” He winks.
I stare down at the fluffy flowers in a stupefied state. Pretending not to like someone for over a decade starts to become second nature. And my body hasn’t caught up with the fact that I don’t need to anymore.
“These are gorgeous!” Aunt Lottie says, pushing past me to say hi to Declan.
“Hi, con,” Lottie says, patting him on the cheek. She has to reach her arm up to do so, his height towering over her by an entire foot. “Take care of my baby, okay?” she chides, pointing the infamous finger at him. But coming from her, it’s more endearing than fear-inducing.
“Yes, ma’am. I will.” Declan beams down at her, dimples flashing from his cheek and chin.
She pats him on the cheek twice before turning around and shoving me out the door. “Okay, con! Have fun!” She shoos me toward Declan and then slams the door shut.
“Woah! Well then!” I say, giggling as I fall into Declan’s arms.
“I guess that’s our cue,” he says.
“I guess so.”
“Alrighty, Little Bird. Right this way.” He steers me from behind as I keep my hands firmly over my eyes. We stomped through a grove of trees until we reached the edge.
“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”
I blink a few times, adjusting to see that we’re in the center of a semi-circle created by massive cliffs hemming us in. Beneath my feet is a small patch of sand that gives way to clear turquoise water.
“Uh-huh.” I scoff-laugh, momentarily dazed by the sight. “How did you find this place?”
“Google Maps is crazy useful, it turns out,” he remarks.
I drop the awe from my expression and pin him with a glare. “First ‘shipping is a crazy invention,’ and now Google Maps. Excuse me for being curious.”
“I’m kidding!” He laughs. “I found this place when I was on a run. I thought the trail was just a random dirt path, but it spit me out onto sand. And I knew instantly I wanted to take you here on our first date. Your curiosity is removing the smoke screen from all the romantic tricks I have up my sleeve.”
I snort a laugh. We gravitate to the center of the sand and choose a spot with a view of the ocean, moss-covered rocks towering behind us. It feels like we’ve been dropped into the soft cradle of the earth’s hands. A secret place, just for us.
“This is unbelievable. It looks like the magical cave from that Australian mermaid show,” I say, settling next to him. The sun has already set beneath the horizon. Faint silver streaks are cast over the moonlit water in its stead.
“I call it ‘secret beach.’ ” His eyes twinkle with the childlike joy at having shared the nickname with me. It’s horrendously cute.
“How long have you wanted to take me on a date?” I ask. “Or like… when did this stop being platonic for you?” I point between us.
He picks up sand and lets it fall through the cracks between his fingers. A slight smile tugs at the side of his mouth.
“Now that is a loaded question.” He looks over at me, arms wrapped around my knees like his.
“Why is it loaded?” I poke, hoping against all hope that his crush has existed for even a fraction as long as mine has.
“I think,” he starts, looking out at the waves. “It was less of a single moment, rather a string of repeated instances that snowballed until it was this huge thing that smacked me in the side of the head. And I knew I couldn’t resist it anymore.”
I’ve never felt blood pump through my veins so viscerally.
“Wow,” I say, becoming monosyllabic. “Yeah, that’s…” I nod my head into oblivion.
Declan peeks at me from the corner of his eye and then breaks, descending into abrupt laughter. The warm rasp of it is boyish in a way that makes my cheeks heat.
I am so far gone, I think helplessly.
“Okay, well!” he protests, still laughing. “I can’t be the only one who admits something. What was the moment for you?”
Oh gosh. I contemplate diminishing the truthful answer. It would be easy to. I’ve been lying to myself for so long about my feelings for him that it is kind of hazy, but I decide starting our relationship with half-truths would be a bad idea and risk it.
“I think the real answer might freak you out, but for the longest time, I didn’t believe you’d ever see me in that way, and I also didn’t want to risk ruining the friendship.
” I sneak a glance at him to weigh his reaction.
It’s unbearably kind. His eyes squint in concentration, and his body language is perfectly at ease, unhurried.
“Mm-hmm. I didn’t want to ruin it either,” he says. “But come on, that wasn’t an answer. You’re acting like a politician right now.”
“Well, if you want me to be completely honest with you—”
“Which I do.”
“Then… I honestly can’t remember a time when I wasn’t a little bit obsessed with you.”
The sound of a wave breaking is the only thing that dares make noise in the wake of my confession, and I think I might fall forever through the empty space, until finally, Declan breaks into a grin and catches me.
“You’re joking,” he teases.
“I’m not.”
“No, be serious with me right now. You’re telling me that when I was five years old and had thick black-framed glasses attached to me via necklace and my two front teeth weren’t close enough to be considered neighbors, you were ‘a little bit obsessed’ with me?” he challenges, eyebrows raised.
“Yes! Dead serious!”
“And this is our first date, why?” he shouts at the sky.
“Because! You know why!” I say instead of the actual answer.
“Because…?” he challenges again with a teasing smile, refusing to let it go.
“Because so many girls threw themselves at you and they were all so impossibly pretty, and you still didn’t want them.
So, I took it as evidence that if you didn’t want them, you definitely didn’t want me.
Actually, no. You know what it was?” I say, more to myself than him.
“I thought you enjoyed my friendship because it was a nice escape from all the unwanted attention you got. So, I wasn’t going to be the idiot who added to your list of people you needed to avoid.
” I laugh to ease the honesty of my admission.
I look down, focusing on drawing circles in the sand.
Without speaking, he takes my chin in his hand and turns my face to him.
“Blair,” he pleads. “You are impossibly pretty. And I know I never acted on it, but trust that I always wanted to. You are the only girl whose attention I wanted, before I even knew other girls existed. And even after discovering other girls did, and do in fact, exist, the same is true. It’s always been you for me.
” His green eyes don’t so much as waver.
It’s like he refuses to blink until I believe him.
I try my best to soak it in. To stare back into his eyes and accept that what I wanted my entire life was happening. But I rasp out a breathless laugh, shaking my head out of his grasp.
“Now that we’re… dating, I don’t think you’re supposed to know that other girls exist.”
He pins me with a glare, playfully shoves my shoulder.
“You are impossible to compliment,” he says, exasperated.
“No, no. I’m sorry. You’re right. I am impossibly pretty,” I say.
He throws his head back with laughter. “Okay, but I’m serious,” he says, voice level.
“You’ve seen me through every stage of life, and you never preferred me more or less based on how football was going.
It sounds so stereotypical, but you saw the way people at school went from not paying attention to me at all, to gawking at me in the hallways after winning championships.
If they said my name, it was because the word football was attached to it.
I never liked that. I still found myself only caring about what you thought of me.
And it was never the football you cared about. The way you spoke to me never changed.”
“Of course not, Declan. That stuff is awesome but it’s kind of irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.
At least, inasmuch as it relates to my obsession with you,” I say not so ironically.
“I’m proud of your accomplishments, don’t get me wrong.
But you could do anything and I would find it impressive. You know that.”
He smiles like the sentiment is still novel to him. Special and new.
And then without speaking, he starts to move toward me.
I relax onto my back in the sand, and he crawls over me, boxing me in with his hands on either side of my face, his lean body hovering above mine, muscles in his shoulders straining with the effort.
And then his face slowly morphs into a smile of pure wonder, lighting up his eyes. “I enjoy that answer very much.”
“Of course you would.” I heckle.