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My lips tick up at the corners for the umpteenth time tonight. “Go for it,” I respond. “She’s all yours.”
Something approximating a squeal flees from her mouth. And then she’s striding across my bedroom, lowering herself into my chair, eyes meeting the monitor as she takes in my screen—my player, my base camp, etcetera. Everything the way I left it before I headed out late for the party.
Her mouth falls open for a long beat before curling into a smile. A smile I have no idea why is there but can appreciate anyhow. “I can’t believe you playNevernight,”she states, awe laced through her tone. “It’s my favorite. An old neighbor of mine used to play it, and I would go over there to get away, and—anyway. I love this game; I love thisworld.”She swivels in thechair to face me as I take a seat at the edge of my bed, a swallow tracking down her throat. “Can I ask you something?”
I chuckle, gaze meeting hers once more. “You don’t have to ask if you can ask me a question, Declan. Just ask the question.”
“Okay.” She nods with a soft laugh of her own. “What does your username stand for?SebCarter33?”she pushes forward. “I know your last name is Carter, and I can see that your jersey has a thirty-three on it over there, but what’s the significance ofSeb?”
Awareness prickles at the back of my mind as I hold her stare. “It’s my name—my given name, anyhow. Sebastian. But my family, we all go by our middle names.” It’s something my family has done for generations. SebastianJudeCarter. TheodoreElijahCarter, OliverThomasCarter—my brothers. I could go on, dragging down the list of every member of my family, but we get the point.
“Sebastian Jude Carter; that’s a good name,” she says, and my full name on her lips sounds better than it’s ever sounded on anyone else’s.
“A good name, huh?” I question. “And what’s yours?”
“Declan Marie King,” she responds quickly enough, but I don’t miss the way her demeanor darkens by the end of her name, her shoulders dipping down the smallest fraction. I can’t help but draw the conclusion that it has something to do with her last name.
Because of her brother? Or because of something that digs deeper?
She hasn’t talked much about her family, and I briefly question if that has anything to do with it as well, but I push the thought aside because it’s none of my business.
I turn my focus back to the screen behind her. “You going to show me what you got, Little D, or what?” I challenge.
Her lips twitch at the edges before stretching into a full-on smile, brightening her face in a way that reaches inside me, plucking at the organ beating beneath my chest.
Fucking hell.
Maybe this was a mistake.
My friendship with this girl is the equivalent of a trainwreck. A derailment. A set destination that’s veered way the fuck off track. And I continue to thrust myself in her path, allowing her pull to drag me in further when I should be doing the opposite. Again, why?
Perhaps it’s because, whether I’ve intended to or not, I’ve grown to like her.
Andfuck me.
Because I really fucking like her.
______
The next few weeks rush by just like that.
Practice on the weekdays, parties on the weekends, and Declan slipping into my room most nights to playNevernight.
It stays platonic between us—for the most part. Light flirting and a mutual admiration, along with a growing protectiveness of her, aside. Despite the way she sometimes looks at me, spelling something different. Something I know is mirrored within my gaze when I look at her as well.
I don’t find the need to dig into it further.
We play, and we flirt, and we get to know each other a bit better with each passing day, but beyond that, we stay up way too fucking late most nights, leaving me more and more wiped at each practice.
I can’t say it isn’t worth it, though.
Chapter Eleven
Jude
Two quick, soft raps sound at my door. I pad across my bedroom and crack it open to a smiling Declan. She stands there in a pair of pajama shorts, and a thin, white shirt—no bra in sight. I shut the door in her face. Her beautiful, bare, astonished face.
“Nope.” I shake my head, raking a hand through my hair and pressing my other palm against the door to keep it shut.