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“Thank you,” she says softly. “That’s a really nice thing to say.”
I open my mouth on a response, but the popping in the microwave increases, the sound filling the room. Declan hands me the second Pop-Tart from her package, and I bite through the corner.
“No.No, no, no,you’re eating it all wrong,” she immediately comments.
I eye her, chewing through strawberry and dry dough. When I get it down, I clear my throat. “You’re saying there’s a right way to eat a Pop-Tart,” I deadpan.
She huffs out a laugh, as if it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s heard. “Of course there is, Jude. Watch and learn.” She tears open a new packet and hands me one pastry as she takes the other.
I feel my own lips ticking up in response.
Only this girl could get me to smile on a day like this.
I humor her, following her lead. Eating the pastry crust first, separating the top half from the bottom with a careful slide, and popping the bottom into my mouth, followed by the frosted top, chewing around the sweetness. I’m not really seeing the point, but it’s alright, I suppose. As good as a Pop-Tart can be.
“Better, right?” she asks, eyes anxious and bright, and I have to chew through my goddamn smile.
“Better,” I lie, and her triumphant expression is worth it.
The microwave beeps, dragging us from the moment. She quickly moves to stop it before it continues and potentially wakes up the rest of the house.
“Okay, you ready?” Her smile stretches farther.
“Ready,” I respond.
And—she never asks.
Not as we pile up the snacks and bring them upstairs to wolf down without a second thought. Not as we settle onto my bed, getting comfortable and choosing a movie for the night. Not as we watchGone in Sixty Seconds, and the end credits roll. Not as she falls asleep on the bed beside me, and I click off the light, and kiss her forehead goodnight.
She never asks.
It’s a fact I’m thankful for. The distraction, rather than an interrogation.
But it strikes me, right through the center of my fucking chest, that if I were going to tell anyone what’s been weighing on me, it would be her.
______
I wake the next morning to the feel of Declan’s warm body trapped beneath mine.
My cock is aching, hard as a rock against her thigh. Thankfully, she’s asleep and none the wiser. I didn’t intend to invade her space, blanketing half her body with the weight of mine. But my sleep-addled brain had other ideas. Obviously.
I groan, wiping a hand down my face as I peel myself from her soft curves but stall, perched at the edge of my bed. I lean forward, elbows to my knees, and steal a glance at her from beneath my arm.
Still sleeping soundly.
Gratitude slinks through me, grateful for her presence, and the ease she brought last night. The feeling bleeds into that of this morning, a sense of tranquility still residing within me.
Attraction, flirting, this baser need I feel for her aside, we’ve built a genuine friendship. One I’m more thankful for than I ever thought I could be.
Never mind that my cock twitches at the sight of her sleepy eyes, and parted, full mouth. Begging me to do more than just sleep beside her. To explore what she feels like. With my hands, my cock, my mouth.
Andfuckbecause I’m already running behind.
But now I need to go rub one out before practice. Unless I want all those assholes to know just how hard this girl makes me.
Chapter Twelve
Declan