Page 40 of Taking A Chance

24

Cora

I haven’t beenable to concentrate on anything for three days. After seeing my guests off yesterday, I spent the rest of the day having an internal panic attack about the whole situation with Declan.

The day started off swell. Jolly even. Declan came over, realizing we didn’t have each other’s numbers, and we exchanged them. He said his farewells to Jensen and Harper, saying he hoped to see them again soon.

I dropped them off at the airport, stopped by work to check on some things, and pulled Claire out for lunch to recap the developments for her. Then I had to call Lyla, repeating all the details to her. Of course Harper had jumped me for them as soon as I made it into the apartment after our date, so she was already up to speed. Which rounds out all the people I needed to tell.

It’s now been a couple of days of texting with Declan, making plans for a second date and checking my phone with a giant grin on my face like a teenager. I feel so ridiculous.

“You okay?” My employee Sara rounds the corner to my desk, apparently noting the blank look on my face.

“Yeah, I think so,” I say, not even sure if I believe myself. “Just having an internal meltdown.”

“So, the same as any other day?” She laughs, and admittedly, she’s not wrong.

“Except this one is about a boy.” I sigh.

“Declan?” Her whole face perks up as she asks.

“How did you—” I start. “Oh, right. Claire.” Nothing is a secret around this place. News for one team member is everyone’s news. Doesn’t matter what it is. It makes its rounds; a perpetual game of telephone. Not that I’m mad about it. Everyone would’ve found out sooner or later.

“Yeah, Declan,” I say, clicking at my computer mouse extra hard. The aggressive clicking only further points to the notion that a very different mouse needs clicking.

“Have you seen him since your date?” she asks, leaning against the wall and settling in for all the details.

“We exchanged numbers the next morning and have been texting. He says he doesn’t want to use the fact that I live across the hall as a reason to get lazy,” I say.

“What does that mean?” Sara tilts her head at me, crinkling her eyebrows.

“It means that, instead of just coming over to my place or having me come over and settling into a routine like that too early, he’s kept his distance. Out of respect for my space.” I sigh again. Because I both admire this and hate it.

I mean, it’s been one date. That’s it. But there’s something about the idea of him just being able to come over at any time with such ease that I really want to take advantage of. Of course, in his mind, we need a few more official dates established before we’re that couple who justNetflix and chillsall the time out of convenience.

“I think that’s good though,” Sara says.

“Yeah, it is,” I say. “But do you know how many times I’ve almost gone over and knocked on his door?”

“It must be weird to know he’srightthere,” she agrees.

“Well, he’s had some work obligations with his agent that’s kept him away in the evenings,” I say. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t listen for him to get home.”

It’s true. I’ve been on the couch both nights when he’s made his way down the hall. I heard him outside my door in the hallway, his keys rattling. He was alone and I swore I heard him get closer to my door, then he hesitated before walking to his apartment. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s been tempted too. Perhaps that’s why he’s trying to stick to official dates for the time being.

“I’m sure whatever the reason is, it’s smart,” she says, leaning over and placing her hand on my shoulder.

“Maybe after our second official date tonight, I’ll have more to say about it.” I shrug.

When I return back to the project on my screen, I’m still thinking about Declan. This is so unlike me. I’m not alet a guy consume all my thoughtskind of woman, but this feels different. Or rather, seems that way, because how can I go from loathing someone to making out with them against my apartment door?Oh, the making out…

I’ll say this much. Declan is a damn good kisser. And his lips are perfect—soft and full. The stubble on his face scratched gently at my skin. His tongue. His very skilled tongue. Maybe the line between loathe and love is the trail his tongue makes across my skin.

My phone buzzes, pulling my attention from work once again. At this rate, I’m not going to get much done.

Lyla: So, do you know where he’s taking you?

I shake my head, preparing my reply. She knows I don’t know. When we spoke about it yesterday, I told her as much.

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