Page 85 of Declan

The others nodded their agreement.

“Have a great night, ladies,” I said before giving them the peace sign.

“He’s so trashed,” I heard one say as I walked away.

I stumbled back to Royal, who was now tongue-deep in another guy’s mouth. I tilted my head at them before nodding. At least someone was going to get laid that night. The guy he was making out with was fucking gorgeous: tall, blond, and biceps bigger than my head.

“Nice job, buddy.” I patted Royal on the back and stumbled past him, heading toward our table.

I sat down and opened Twitter. Porn appeared first on my feed, but then I saw a few posts from Declan. One where he talked about returning from vacation and feeling eager to get back to work. Another was a selfie of him on his balcony, the sunset behind him.

Traitorous tears sprang to my eyes.

The sunset reminded me of the one we’d watched while holding hands. I grabbed my near-empty drink—the sixth? Seventh?—and finished it off. I then went to my page and began uploading all the photos I’d taken.

I doubted Declan would check my page; I was probably already forgotten in his mind. But I didn’t post them for him. Not that he’d care even if he did see them.

A slower song came on, and I swayed side-to-side in the chair, closing my eyes and feeling the music. My head was foggy, but I felt amazing. Like I could do anything. Talk to anyone.

My phone buzzed with a text and I opened it without looking at the sender.

And then I nearly dropped the damn thing.

Spartan:What the fuck are you doing?