Page 14 of Taking A Chance

I nod my head in agreement, still not saying a word. Then we move on, cutting through the crowd to the other side of the gallery.

“He doesn’t seem so bad,” she starts again.

“Okay, fine. He’s not that bad. Sure. He’s my slutty artistic neighbor who also happens to be really good looking and he’s not that bad of a human.” The words leave me on a breath, pushed out quickly and with force.

Claire side-eyes me. “Whoa, girl. He like…affectsyou.”

“Shut up,” I say, realizing we’ve worked together too long. She knows me. She knows the things I say, how I act under different conditions.

“Look, for better or worse, you react to him. Your body reacts to him. When’s the last time that happened, huh?”

If bythat, she means I feel a strong urge to punch him in his pretty face every time I see him, then yes, she’s correct. But if she means I get tingly feelings in my lady parts, she’s definitely wrong. There’s a big difference between rage and sexual desire radiating throughout your body. Isn’t there? I don’t think those feel the same.

How would you know, Cora? When’s the last time anything sexual radiated throughout your body?!Ugh. My inner sex goddess is right. At this point, I’m a born-again virgin.

We walk through the rest of the exhibits, her question hanging in the air, unanswered. I contemplate leaving early, but I know Claire will never let me live it down.

Once we’ve rounded the place, we find ourselves back in Declan’s space. He’s deep in discussion with Ryan and some other people, so we don’t interrupt. Instead, we try to slide past the group. But Declan reaches out, grabbing me at the bicep. He puts a finger up to the group, leaning in close to me. So close, in fact, that I can smell him again.

“This wraps up in about another hour, if you’d like to talk?” he says.

Talk? Us? Umm.

“I can’t exactly abandon Claire,” I start.

“Yes, you can,” she offers, presumably perking up at the idea of us talking like it’s a big deal. “I’ll just grab myself a cab and we can chat tomorrow.”

He looks to her and smiles, then looks back at me for confirmation.

I nod, reluctance flooding me.

My friends are the worst.

10

Cora

I hugClaire right before she steps into a taxi and drives away, leaving me standing on the sidewalk next to Declan. Apparently, he sold all the paintings he had on display tonight. After seeing his work, that shouldn’t surprise me, but I’m still surprised in general about this side of him. It feels very important to him, not just an exploited talent. And that’s something I can respect.

“So,” he says, interrupting my thoughts, “wanna share an Uber home?”

When I think about it, I don’t want to punch him, which is different. My skepticism still runs deep, though. Even with that considered, I don’t see the harm in taking him up on his offer. I nod as he pulls his phone from his pocket and clicks some buttons.

“There’s one seven minutes away,” he announces.

I fold my arms over my chest, suddenly chilly. The air in Boston is getting crisper by the day. Soon, we’ll be well into fall—my favorite season.

“Are you cold?” Declan asks.

“A little,” I admit, realizing while the leggings and boots were fine choices, the thin fabric of my three-quarter sleeve top leaves something to be desired. Which is warmth. I desire warmth.

“Here,” he says, sliding his suit jacket off and advancing.

“Oh no, I couldn’t. Then you’ll be cold.”

He laughs. “I’m Irish. I don’t get cold.”

“You’re Irish?” I look him over, his dark hair certainly making me question his statement.

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