Page 118 of Trying Sophie

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Declan

I’d hada shit practice and I was tired as hell, but I’d told Sophie I’d call her when she was done with her shift so with three hours to go, I set the alarm on my phone and burrowed under the covers for a nap. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, the alarm was blaring in my ear, urging me to wake up. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I dialed Sophie’s number.

“Hey baby,” I said when she answered.

“Hey you, what’s up?” she responded groggily.

I loved her voice when it sounded like this, a throaty mixture of honey and spice. It was the same way right after she came.

“You weaseled out of telling me about your first kiss the other day,” I told her.

I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to know, but when we’d shared all our other firsts, it seemed a weird thing not to know. The problem with asking though was that I had a jealous streak a mile long where Sophie was concerned. This had never happened before and I hated the feeling, but like a scab you couldn’t stop picking at, I wanted all the details.

“Not exactly the highlight of my teenage years,” she groaned. “I was fourteen, still as awkward as I’d been when we knew each other, except by then I also had braces.”

“You were adorable,” I countered.

“Right. That’s why you called me Fly Girl.”

“In my defense, those glasses did magnify your eyes quite spectacularly. I maintain it was an appropriate nickname.”

Sophie laughed, but didn’t argue since we both knew I was right.

“Do you want to hear the rest of my story or not?”

“Oh, I definitely want to hear it now that I know you had a mouth full of metal. Please tell me you sliced the poor sod’s lip off.”

“Not exactly …”

“Oh my god, you didn’t,” I hooted.

“Shut up. I didn’t slice his lip off, okay? It was just a small scratch.”

“This might be the best story ever,” I laughed around my words.

“Of course you’d think so, being a fan of my childhood humiliation and all,” she accused, teasingly.

I loved that something that had started as a major point of contention between us had settled into an easy, shared history. That we could openly tease each other was a place I never thought we’d reach. That she’d forgiven me at all was a minor miracle, and I wasn’t about to second guess my good fortune.

“Well, you did turn that lovely shade of pink I’ve come to admire so much. It’s the same shade you turn when I make you come.”

Rather than playing along, Sophie turned the tables and asked me about my first girlfriend, someone I hadn’t thought about in years.

“Oh no, now you’re the one weaseling out of confessions. Man up O’Shaughnessy. I want to know about your first girlfriend.”

“The truth is, she broke up with me for an older bloke,” I answered, hoping that’d be the end of it.

“How’d that make you feel?”

Ugh, not feelings.

“How do you think it felt? Like shit. She was the first girl who didn’t want me.”

“Excuse me,” Sophie replied mock-indignantly, “but that honor goes to yours truly.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I answered.

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