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DECLAN

N atalie’s restaurant is almost empty when we arrive, but the private back room she’s reserved brims with life. Victoria tenses beside me as we step through the doorway, her hand slipping from mine like she’s preparing to flee.

“Relax,” I whisper, lacing my fingers back through hers like I’m staking a claim. “You belong here, and they don’t bite. Well, except maybe Luc when we’re down in the third period.”

She gives me a slight smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Gone is the soft, playful Victoria from last night. Now she sits tall, shoulders stiff, voice measured, like she’s already halfway back behind her walls.

“Declan! Victoria!” Natalie calls, waving us over. “Perfect timing. First batch is just coming up.”

I keep my hand firmly laced with Victoria’s, guiding us to the table.

“Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence,” Emile teases. “We were starting to think you got lost.”

“Traffic,” I lie, pulling out a chair for Victoria. “Plus, someone insisted on changing clothes.”

“A woman after my own heart,” Sara says, giving Victoria a warm smile. “I refuse to do the walk of shame in yesterday’s clothes, too.”

Victoria’s cheeks flush pink. “I believe in facing the firing squad with my dignity intact.”

“No firing squad here,” Calvin assures her. “Just pancakes and shameless curiosity.”

“The curiosity is justified,” Luc adds, passing coffee our way. “Our star forward has been mooning over you for weeks. We were planning an intervention.”

“I do not moon,” I protest, pouring coffee for us both.

“You absolutely moon,” Emile counters. “Remember practice when Coach blew the whistle three times because you were staring into space after someone mentioned ballet?”

The table erupts in laughter, and I feel my own cheeks warming. “Maybe I was just visualizing how to improve my form,” I say, trying to look serious but failing.

Victoria looks at me with a raised eyebrow as she sips her coffee.

“You were visualizing something, that’s for sure,” Calvin mutters just loud enough to be heard, earning him a playful slap on the arm from Olivia.

Through it all, she sits with her back straight, smile polite but distant. She answers questions when directly addressed, but none of last night’s warmth shows. She’s cordial, professional—and completely closed off.

The conversation shifts to Peach Springs and its famous festival. Victoria relaxes slightly discussing her hometown, and soon everyone’s making plans to visit. The discussion flows around us as Natalie’s pancakes are devoured, but I can’t shake the feeling something’s wrong. Victoria is performing a role, keeping deliberate distance.

When her phone chimes, she jumps on it like a lifeline, excusing herself.

“Everything OK with you two?” Olivia asks once Victoria leaves.

I sigh. “I thought so. Last night was...” I trail off. “But she seems different this morning. Like...” Like she’s already made her mind up about leaving. Not just breakfast, but all of this. Me.

I thought we were past this…

“I’m going to grab more coffee,” I announce, standing and ignoring Callum when he says he has a full pot.

I find Victoria outside, pacing on the sidewalk, phone pressed to her ear.

“...not that simple, Shelby... No, I’m not running away...” She turns, sees me, and freezes. “I have to go.”

She ends the call, and I jump straight in. “What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“This—” I gesture at her stiff posture. “You’ve barely said two voluntary words in there, and when you speak, it’s like you’re giving a press conference.”

She looks around, eyes darting to the street, checking if anyone’s watching. My frustration spikes.

“See? That’s exactly what I mean. You’re looking around like you’re doing something wrong.”

“Declan, please,” she says quietly. “Can we not do this here?”

“Right. Because God forbid someone sees you with me.” The bitterness in my voice surprises even me.

Victoria flinches. And despite my frustration, I can’t make this harder for her.

With a sigh, I reach for her hand. “Come on.”

She hesitates, but follows me back inside. I spot a narrow hallway with a door marked ‘Storage’ and lead her there.

“A storage closet?” Victoria whispers, eyes wide. “Really, Declan?”

“It’s private,” I reply, crossing my arms. The physical distance between us feels smaller than the emotional gulf.

“Look, I’m sorry if I seemed distant. I’m just not used to this.”

“To what? Having breakfast?”

“No,” she says defensively. “Being with you, being part of your world, sitting with your teammates like I belong.”

“You do belong.”

“No I don’t, Declan!” Her composure cracks. “That’s the problem!”

“Bullshit,” I counter, moving closer. “They like you. They respect you. What’s really going on?”

“Fine. You want to know?” Her voice shakes. “I’m terrified. Being in there, seeing how they look at us, how they’re already thinking of us as a couple...”

“And what’s so terrifying about that?”

“Because we’re not a couple! We just happened, Declan. Last night just happened. Now you’re acting like it’s some grand love story, and they’re looking at me like I’m your girlfriend, and I can’t?—”

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t be what they’re expecting,” she whispers. “What you’re expecting.”

“And what exactly am I expecting?”

“I don’t know! That’s my point. This isn’t just about us. I’ve got more to lose than you do. My studio, my reputation?—”

“Why are you so worried about what people think?”

Her eyes narrow. “Don’t trivialize this.”

“I’m trying to understand why you’re keeping me at a distance when last night you were?—”

“Don’t,” she cuts me off, flushing. “Last night was wonderful. But it doesn’t change reality.”

“Which reality?”

“We’ve been over this! We have an expiration date. In a few months, I’ll be gone. Back to Peach Springs, and you’ll be here with your perfect life and perfect career and?—”

“Stop saying ‘perfect’ like it’s an insult,” I interrupt, temper flaring. “There’s nothing perfect about my life. You think I don’t struggle? You think I don’t work my ass off to keep my spot, to prove I deserve to be here?”

“That’s not what I meant. But this—whatever’s happening between us—can’t last. So why pretend? Why sit with your friends like we’re building something real?” Her voice breaks.

“Maybe because it is real,” I growl, closing the distance. “Maybe what I feel for you isn’t something I can switch off. And maybe if you’d stop freaking out every five minutes, you’d realize you feel the same.”

Victoria’s eyes flash. “Don’t tell me what I feel?—”

I cut her off, pulling her to me, crashing my mouth against hers. For a fraction of a second, she stiffens, then kisses me back with equal ferocity, fingers digging into my shoulders.

The kiss is nothing like our tender exchanges from last night. This is raw, desperate, angry. I press her against the metal shelving, barely registering the rattling glassware. My hands grip her waist, lifting her as I push my thigh between her legs.

“This won’t change my mind,” she gasps, even as her hips rock against me.

“Tell me to stop,” I challenge, voice rough with desire. My hands slide beneath her sweater. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

Victoria answers by pulling me back, her mouth demanding against mine. Her fingers fumble with my belt as I push her sweater higher, revealing her black lace bra.

“You drive me crazy,” I groan, cupping her breast. “Every time I think I understand you, you push me away.”

“And you’re infuriating,” she whispers, her hand slipping inside my pants. “So damn sure of yourself.”

My brain short-circuits at her touch. I lower my head to take her nipple in my mouth, and she arches with a muffled cry, fingers tangling in my hair.

“Fuck, Victoria,” I grunt, dropping to my knees. “I don’t have all the answers, but I know what I want.” I look up at her flushed face. “I want you. All of you. Not just in my bed, but in my life.”

Something flickers in her eyes. “Declan...”

“Shh,” I whisper, pushing her skirt higher. “Stop fighting me. Let me show you how much I want you.”

I press against her inner thigh, breathing her in as I pull down her panties. Lifting her leg over my shoulder, I lean in to taste her.

“Oh God,” she gasps, head falling back against the shelving. Her fingers pull at my hair as I work her with my tongue, finding her already wet for me.

“Declan,” she whimpers. “Someone could come in?—”

I look up, lips wet with her arousal. “Then be quiet,” I say, sliding two fingers inside as I return to her clit. She stifles a moan as I curl my fingers, finding that perfect spot.

When I suck her clit between my lips, she comes with a muffled cry, hand over her mouth. I stay with her through the aftershocks until she pulls me away. Rising, I capture her mouth in a hungry kiss, fumbling with my pants.

“Turn around,” I murmur against her lips.

Victoria complies, facing the shelving. I press against her back, hands cupping her breasts as I kiss her neck.

“Still think this just happened?” I mutter. “Still think this is nothing?”

“Maybe I need more convincing,” she challenges, breathless.

I grip her hips and thrust into her with one smooth motion. She gasps, clutching the shelf for support.

“God, you feel amazing,” I rasp. “This is what you do to me, Victoria.”

I set a rhythm that has her pushing back against me, meeting each thrust. My hand finds her clit, rubbing circles that make her moan.

“Shh,” I remind her. “They’ll hear you.”

“Then stop making me feel so good,” she retorts.

I chuckle despite myself, driving into her harder. The room fills with our breathing, the soft slap of skin, occasional rattling glassware. My hand covers Victoria’s mouth as she approaches another climax.

“Come for me again,” I encourage. “Show me this is real.”

She shatters with a muffled sob against my palm.

I follow with a harsh groan, burying my face in her neck as pleasure tears through me.

For a long moment, we stay like that—bodies joined, breath ragged, hearts pounding.

When I finally ease out of her, she turns to face me. Her expression is unreadable as we straighten our clothes in silence.

“I’m not sure that solved anything,” she says quietly.

“Didn’t it? Because it proved something to me.” I take her hands. “Whatever this is between us, it’s not just physical, and it’s not just happening to me. You feel it too.”

Footsteps approach in the hallway. Victoria’s eyes widen in alarm as the door swings open.

“Hey, you guys find the coffee?” Emile asks, taking one look at us—Victoria leaning against the shelving, my hair a mess, both breathing hard—and breaks into a knowing grin. “Or were you looking for something else entirely?”

Victoria’s face flushes crimson as she smooths her hair.

“No judgment! Just making sure you hadn’t gotten lost,” Emile says. “I’ll tell everyone you’re, uh, still looking for that coffee.”

The door closes, and Victoria covers her face. “Oh, my God. This is mortifying.”

I laugh, tension dissolving. “Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been Natalie looking for napkins.”

Victoria peers through her fingers, then her shoulders shake with reluctant laughter. “Your face when he opened that door...”

“My face? You looked ready to spontaneously combust.”

She drops her hands, looking up at me. “They’re going to be insufferable now.”

“Probably. But they’ll love you, if you give them a chance.”

Victoria sighs. “This doesn’t solve anything. All the same obstacles are still there.”

I cup her face between my hands, my thumbs tracing her cheekbones. “Stop fighting this, Victoria. Stop fighting me.” My voice drops lower, rougher. “Because I’m not backing down. If I have to quit hockey and dedicate my life to giving you earth-shattering orgasms until you admit we belong together, I will.”

Her eyes widen, a startled laugh escaping her. “That’s your master plan? Orgasm me into submission?”

“Is it working?” I ask, one eyebrow raised, not backing away an inch.

She studies me for a long moment, something shifting behind her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossibly determined,” I correct her, stealing a quick kiss. “And patient. And surprisingly good at storage room activities.”

This time her laugh is real, shoulders relaxing as she shakes her head. “Fine. You win this round, O’Rielly.”

“I plan to win them all,” I say, unable to stop smiling. It’s not a declaration of love, but it’s a surrender of sorts. A start. “Now, let’s get coffee before they send another search party.”

When we return to the table, Victoria’s different. Still not completely relaxed, but the careful distance is gone. She leans against me when sitting, responds naturally to questions, even teases Callum about his pre-game superstitions.

“So,” Sara says as we finish, “Natalie and I are planning a girls’ spa day next weekend. Victoria, you should join us.”

Victoria hesitates briefly before nodding. “I’d like that.”

Under the table, I reach for her hand. She squeezes back without looking, continuing her conversation with Olivia.

Victoria might still be scared. She might still see obstacles where I see possibilities. But she’s here, taking chances.

And that’s enough for now.