Chapter 11 #2
"It's fine." He looks around with genuine interest, his gaze landing on my bookshelf, then on the framed photo of me at graduation. "You were younger here."
"Sixteen. Just graduating high school."
He turns, eyes widening. "Sixteen?"
"I graduated from high school early and got into college the same year." I shrug, self-conscious. "My parents thought it was important to accelerate because of my brilliance."
"What did you think?"
No one ever asked what I thought or wanted.
"I wanted to make them proud so they'd notice me." I pour wine into two mismatched glasses, handing him one.
“They must be very proud of you.”
"That's impossible. Marcus already makes them proud. I just make them confused about why I've not achieved as much as him."
His hand tightens almost imperceptibly on the glass.
"Their loss."
The words are simple, but the way he says them with absolute conviction makes my chest crack open a little.
We settle on the couch, carefully maintaining space between us, and drink in silence. I occasionally glance at his lips and his hands, wondering if he'll make a move again.
"Can I ask you something?" I hear myself say. "Why did you kiss me?"
He takes a long drink. "Because I wanted to."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I have."
His green eyes find mine, then fall to my lips, darkening with desire. My breath hitches. I shift closer, my mind already dreaming of what his lips would do to mine.
"I saw you and I wanted you. Simple as that," he says, moving away.
Disappointment slams into my chest.
"Nothing about this is simple."
"No, it's not," he agrees, looking away.
Silence stretches between us, heavy with everything unsaid. Should I ask him to kiss me? Will that make him stare at me with that raging desire he had during the gala? But after that, what next?
Declan is crude and a playboy. Alluring but always annoying. It's almost impossible for anything tangible to work between us, except a fling.
And I deserve more than that.
That's why I want King.
King who is protective and the right choice for my future, even if it's Declan's kisses I crave. If I tell Declan about King, he'll see why we can't be together. Or at least, I'll make myself understand why Declan is the worse choice.
"I'm involved with someone," I blurt out.
He turns to me, his expression not changing.
"Who? What's his name?"
"King. He's kind. I haven't met him yet, but we have a connection, like he sees me in a way no one else does."
His face turns smug. "So, this is the person I'm competing with."
I cross my arms. "What do you mean?"
"You haven't met him. He's going to lose." He finishes with a smirk that curves on the right side of his face, giving him a mischievous, roguish look.
The sheer audacity!
I snort. "You're not even in the line of competition, Declan."
He leans closer, invading my space. It's a welcome invasion that makes every cell in my body hum. My brain shuts off, and desire takes over. His eyes land on my lips. As if a string is attached to me, I move closer, lips tilting upwards.
Kiss me again, my mind screams.
"I am not, uh?" he asks, chuckling.
"No, you're not." My voice is low and silky.
His gaze pierces into mine. "That's because I'm way above the competition."
Then he withdraws, leaving me longing for the kiss that never came.
But at the same time, guilt flares up inside me. I’m seducing Declan of all people? Practically throwing myself at him? I stand up, hurry away from the couch.
"Hawthorne... Declan... I..." I take a breath to calm my nerves. "My body might want yours, but that's not the same as wanting everything that has to do with you. So, please stay away."
I wring my hands together, hoping he'll listen.
"You're begging me to stay away because of a man whom you haven't even met?" His voice sounds incredulous.
I turn sharply. "Yes. We'll be meeting soon, and I don't want him to think I'm entangled with you or any other man."
His eyes soften. "What does this King mean to you?"
"He's intellectual, thoughtful, and makes me feel brilliant. He's everything that makes sense."
"And I don't make sense," he says, setting his wine down and standing.
It's not a question, but I reply.
"You make everything complicated. You're my brother's best friend. You're arrogant and infuriating and..." My voice catches.
Declan is now standing in front of me, his eyes trained on mine. There's something in his expression that steals my breath.
And you make me feel things I shouldn't feel, I finish in my mind. "What is it?"
“Here’s a crazy idea,” Declan says, like he’s talking about grabbing coffee. “Date me.”
I blink. “What?”
“Not for real,” he adds quickly, though his eyes don’t soften. “For practice.”
“Practice,” I repeat faintly.
He nods like this makes perfect sense. “A month. We go out. We talk. You build confidence.” His voice drops as he steps closer. “Then you’ll be the best version of yourself for your mystery man.”
My pulse stutters.
“You mean… King,” I say.
“Yeah.” His mouth curves. “King.”
My brain latches onto the idea before I can stop it. Practice. All the things I feel behind on—how to flirt, how to act on a date, how to kiss. How to do other things.
I don’t say any of that out loud.
“And what do you get out of this?” I ask, folding my arms like that might steady me.
He doesn’t hesitate. That alone throws me.
“I get you,” he says simply. “Because I’m attracted to you. And I won’t pretend I’m not.”
My stomach flips, annoying and traitorous.
“I get the chance to explore this,” he continues, gesturing between us. “I’ve never been this intrigued by a woman. I want to know what this is. To know you. But there’s no pressure. No expectations.”
I swallow. “And after the month?”
“Then we decide,” he says. “If we want more—or if we don’t. Either way, we walk away clean.”
“And if King wants to meet me before the month is over?” I whisper.
Declan doesn’t hesitate. “Then we end it.”
"That's insane." My lips tilt upward, body thrumming with need.
"Or it's practical." His hand brushes mine, sending electricity up my spine. "You want experience. I can give you that."
"I never told you I want experience."
"Then consider it research."
"Research?" My voice comes out squeaky.
"Why not? You're a scientist. Test the hypothesis to see what happens when you let yourself want something dangerous instead of something safe."
My heart hammers against my ribs. "That's a terrible idea.'
"Probably." His lips curve upward, eyes brightening. "But you're considering it."
I am. Damn all the consequences, I am. My eyes land on those lips, wishing they'll take a second to graze mine.
"I'll think about it," I whisper.
He steps closer, his face bending toward mine. I can feel the heat radiating from his body, can smell his cologne mixing with the wine on his breath.
"That's all I'm asking, Ivy," he whispers in my ear. "And for this one month of practice dating, I'll be the luckiest bastard alive."
I freeze. His lips are a hair's breadth away. All he has to do is move them close to mine, and I'll kiss him. My eyes track those soft lips as they move from my ear to my cheek without touching my skin. When they get close to my mouth, I move closer. Declan takes in a ragged breath and pulls away.
Leaving me wanting.
Needing.
Screaming inside.
Then he walks out the door, leaving my body humming and my thoughts in chaos.
I close the door and lean against it, pressing my palms to my heated cheeks. What am I doing? What am I even considering? Dating Declan for a month is possibly the worst idea of my lifetime.
But I want him to kiss me senseless.
It's just one month, and then, there'll be no strings attached, the tormented desire in me whispers.
I'm still standing there, trying to convince myself that this is the most reckless thing I can do after living a life full of carefully calculated decisions, when there's a knock on the door.
Opening the door, I see Marcus standing there, his expression thunderous.
"We need to talk."
"We can talk now."
I cross my arms, not moving from the doorway.
"Inside. Now."
The warning in his voice makes me step aside. He stalks into my apartment, turning on me the moment the door closes.
"What was Declan doing here?"
My stomach drops. "Are you stalking me now?"
"I came to check on you and saw his car leaving." His dark eyes burn with protective fury. "The playboy I explicitly warned you about was in your apartment alone. Want to explain that?"
"You were checking on me?" Cold anger begins to form in my belly. "Since when do you check on me?"
"Since you started making questionable decisions."
I snort. "You mean like having a friend over and living my life?"
"Declan is not your friend."
"And you would know because?"
"Because I know him! I've been his teammate for five years, and I've seen how he treats women."
"I'm not interested in hearing this."
"Too bad because you're going to listen," he says, voice rising. "He dates models, actresses, anyone beautiful and available. The second he's bored, he moves on."
"That's not..."
"It's exactly who he is! And I'll be damned if I let him do that to my sister."
"Your sister, whom you never check on." I glare, placing one hand on my hip. "Who you never ask about her research or her life, but the second a man shows interest, you suddenly care?"
He recoils like I've slapped him. "That's not fair."
"When was the last time you asked about my work, Marcus?
When was the last time Mom and Dad called to congratulate me on a publication instead of asking about your latest game?
" My voice cracks, years of resentment pouring out.
"You join them in interrupting whenever I start trying to discuss my work during dinner.
And you've never acknowledged that I've accomplished anything worth celebrating. "
"I'm trying to protect you."
"From what? From living and making my own choices?" Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. "You can't ignore every other area of my life, then overcompensate by smothering me with this overprotective display."
"I'm not trying to overcompensate. I'm trying to keep you from ruining your career!" he yells. "You're dating your research subject! Do you understand what that looks like? How it compromises everything you've worked for?"
"I'm not dating anyone!" I retort, even though I was considering dating Declan a few minutes ago.
"Then what was Declan doing here?"
"Giving me a ride home because my car broke down. He was being a decent human being, which is something you can't comprehend."
His jaw tightens. "Stay away from him."
"No."
"Ivy..."
"You don't get to make that call. Not anymore."
He stares at me for a long moment. Then he storms past me, banging the door close.
I rush to my phone and start texting King.
We talk about philosophy and my research and his childhood.
Nothing about family drama. My anger dissipates as we chat into the night, but I can still feel that gaping hole filled with desire.
When we say goodnight to each other, I set the phone down and stare at my reflection in the darkened window.
I have a decision to make.
Tomorrow, I'll be rational and make the smart choice.
But tonight, all I can think about is Declan and the way my body came alive when he was near.
And the terrifying possibility that safe isn't all I want anymore.