“I’m starved,” I say because I am.
“We’ll need to Uber. Give me a sec and let me see if one of the guys can take my bag back to campus for me.”
While he runs off back inside the dressing room I stew. I don’t know what to make of Declan. Brooding, closed off, nice, intense. And darn, those lips of his. Just thinking of our kiss makes my body tingle all over. But is he only hanging out with me to appease his coach?
He returns panting hard. The sight of him makes me feel all mushy inside. I am crushing hard on this guy. I honestly don’t remember the last time that happened to me, other than with Sean Donalds from my eighth-grade class. We had gone to the same high school until he left sophomore year, and I spent way too much time daydreaming what kissing him would be like. Yet, I had never been on Sean’s radar since I was pretty much low-key in high school, having only two best friends, Ingrid, who also had a single mom, and Walter, who was gay but terrified to come out to his family.
“What are you in the mood to eat? I need to let the Uber know where we’re going,” Declan asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“I’m fine to eat on campus,” I say.
Declan presses his lips together. “There’s a nice quiet pizza place not too far. You up for a walk?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “And I love pizza so that works.”
“Good.”
We head down the street walking side by side. “So you got any questions for me?” Declan asks.
“You played well tonight. I can write about what a passionate player you are,” I offer.
“That would be great. Tonight I definitely felt the pressure,” he admits. “But don’t write about that. Teams want to know I can handle the pressure.”
“Okay, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with coming across as human. I mean, you have a lot riding on the line with drafting.”
“I know, I’m just not very good about voicing vulnerability,” he says.
I think on those words. What must it have been like for him growing up with a kid brother who had health problems and a family that didn’t have enough money to get him the help he needed. My chest clenches when I think of a young Declan trying to be strong and a role model to his kid brother.
“I get that. Nobody likes to hear a sob story. I definitely won’t be writing that, but yours has a happy ending,” I say.
“Not yet it doesn’t. Offers haven’t come in. Still early in the season,” he explains. I know Ryse is banking on hopefully entering the draft next year. For people like us, who come from nothing, it means everything. There’s so much riding on the line.
We continue down the dark street. This part of the street is lined with a convenience store, a coffee shop, and a little cute sign that says Pizzeria. The place looks small and quaint but when we enter there aren’t too many tables available.
“Declan.” An older lady with dark hair comes over. “So good to see you again.” She kisses him and hugs him tight. Then she pulls away and looks over at me. “Who is your friend?”
“This is Poppy,” he says curtly. “This is my aunt, Maria. She owns the place with my uncle, Mario.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say to the lovely woman.
She ushers us in and sets us at a table near a small brick fireplace.
“So your family owns this place,” I say, looking around. “It’s very cozy.”
“My aunt and uncle. My mom’s sister. They’re Italian. They moved out here when Logan and I were little. It was obvious how rough Detroit was getting, but my mom couldn’t leave. She had a steady job as a secretary back then. I didn’t see Maria and Mario until I came out to school here. They like it when I drop in, which I don’t do often with my crazy schedule of school and practices.”
“She seemed very happy to see you,” I confirm.
“You know for someone who should know nothing about me, you sure know an awful lot,” he says, fidgeting with his napkin even though his searing eyes watch me with curiosity. “I shouldn’t tell you half the things I tell you. I shouldn’t have brought you here either. It’s another piece of my past that I’m letting you in on.”
“I think you trust me,” I say to him.
“Oh yeah, and why do you think that?” he snickers, but still I sense his curiosity. I dare think that he’s also intrigued by me.
“I don’t know. Maybe because of how we met,” I say.
“I barely remember that,” he chuckles.
“Oh, I think you remembered enough.” I lean back in my chair and grin. “Like the fact that I revealed to you that I never kissed a guy before.” I cock my brow because this statement also feels like a challenge.
“I had a vague memory of that, although, I have to say you keep changing your look entirely. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re a pretty girl no matter what you wear or how much makeup you have on, but I found it a little confusing at first. Care to explain?” he asks, leaning on the table with his elbows. He pushes his long sleeve shirt up, revealing sinuous forearms that are so damn sexy.
I shake my head. “You aren’t going to deflect. We kissed and you knew it was my first kiss.”
He chuckles and looks down at the table before looking back up at me. The restaurant is lit with candles all over, giving the place a romantic ambiance and his gray eyes twinkle in the light. “Fine. Maybe I wanted that first kiss,” he admits and licks his lips. He also keeps his gaze trained on me like he is now challenging me. I feel my mouth water with the need to kiss him again and again.
I nod my head, at a loss for words, and feel a blush crawl up my cheeks.
“Now it’s your turn,” he says.
I laugh. “You want me to explain my wardrobe?”
“Yes.” He nods.
“There’s nothing to explain. My roommate, Bonnie, likes to give me makeovers. I guess my own clothes aren’t the most flattering, considering my low budget for clothing,” I explain.
“I don’t know. I mean I’m not a very materialistic guy. You’re pretty, Poppy. It doesn’t matter what you wear or at least it shouldn’t matter. I get your roommate is trying to be helpful or whatever, but you should just wear what makes you comfortable,” he says, and it surprises the hell out of me because those aren’t words I’m expecting from a hockey player. I mean, my brother would probably say the same thing to me, but he’s my brother and I see the girls he can go for. He just wants to keep me protected but Declan… that’s a whole different ball game.
“That’s sweet,” I finally say. “Truth is, I love Bonnie’s clothes. I think I sometimes wore my clothes really big because I felt like I was hiding behind them.” I shake my head. “I don’t even know if I’m making any sense.”
“No,” Declan says. “You’re making perfect sense. You were hiding behind your clothes because, well, you didn’t say why but I’ve been hiding behind a bunch of lies that I feel have caught up to me.” He looks down at the table as if in shame.
“What kind of lies?” I ask, and I want to reach out and take his hand. Maybe assure him in some way, but I don’t because it feels like he needs his space too.