Page 76 of Cross Check Hearts

“I can’t believe you just did that.” I’m breathless, and although my tone sounds slightly accusatory, I’m grinning.

What he just did was incredibly risky, and it could’ve gotten me fired or worse if anyone caught us, but the part of me that loves exploring my wilder side is lit up like a firework right now.

Declan crawls out from under the desk, looking way too proud of himself. His mouth is still wet from my arousal, and something about the sight of it makes me want to kiss him just to see what I taste like on his lips.

He stays on his knees, bringing his face level with mine, and the look in his eyes makes my heart flutter all over again.

“What can I say? I’ve always been good at multitasking,” he says with a wicked grin. “And nothing tastes better than you coming all over my tongue while telling your ex to fuck off.”

A laugh bursts out of me, and he hauls me in for a kiss, swallowing the sound possessively. I grip his shirt, kissing him back, as a realization burns through my veins—for the first time in a very long time, I feel free and happy. Because of Declan.

And I’m finding it harder and harder to keep worrying about whether or not we should be doing this.

Chapter33

Hannah

My head is pounding, making it impossible to focus on what my professor is saying. This isn’t normal for me, which only adds to my frustration. Today started badly and keeps getting worse. I barely made it out of my apartment on time this morning, and I’ve been playing catch-up ever since.

A headache is the last thing I need on top of everything else.

Ever since that moment at the studio, I’ve been spending all my spare time between school and yoga with Declan, and I don’t regret it. He’s been amazing and understanding, but as I sit here feeling like my head might split open, I’m starting to think everything I’ve got going on is catching up to me. The pressure of balancing it all is becoming too much.

I glance at the clock hanging above the professor’s head and sigh quietly when I realize there’s still forty-five minutes left in class. I’ve got ibuprofen in my purse, but nothing to swallow it with, and I don’t want to disrupt class by going to the water fountain in the hall. So I watch the second hand tick, tick, tick.

Each movement seems to match the throbbing in my head. I read somewhere that tapping can help with pain, so I gently tap two fingers against my wrist. It doesn’t really help, but it gives me something to focus on until the professor finally dismisses us.

I quickly gather my things and head for the bathroom, hoping some ibuprofen and cold water will get me through the rest of the day. I’m already late for my next class, but that’s the least of my concerns right now.

I drop my purse on one of the sinks and take out the small bottle of ibuprofen, swallowing two pills with water cupped in my hands. I splash more water on my face, which helps momentarily, but the pain quickly returns. It’ll take time for the medicine to kick in.

After drying my face and making sure I look somewhat presentable, I check my phone and see that I’m already five minutes late for class.

“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath.

I should care more, but I don’t have the energy. I sling my bag over my shoulder and head for the exit, each step making my head pound harder.

Maybe I should just skip the rest of my classes today.

As I try to tuck the ibuprofen bottle back into my school bag, I frown, realizing that something is missing. I stop and search frantically, hoping the paper I need to turn in today is somewhere in the bottom of my bag… but it’s not. I know I printed it this morning—I must have left it on the counter at home in my rush to feed Ralph and leave.

With a defeated sigh, I sink onto a bench near the bathrooms. My temples are throbbing, and I’m frustrated about forgetting the paper. I worked hard on it and printed it early specifically to avoid this situation, but it wasn’t enough.

I don’t know what compels me to do it, but I find myself pulling out my phone and calling Declan. He’s not my boyfriend or anything—we haven’t defined what exactly we are to each other—so maybe it’s a bad idea. But he’s the first person I think of, the only person I want to talk to right now. Maybe hearing his voice will help ease this headache.

The line rings several times, and I bite my lip as it finally goes to voicemail. “Hey, you’ve reached Declan. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I can.”

Hearing his voice makes me smile. But when I start speaking, my emotions take over, the frustration and pain that are thrashing around in my chest and head rising to the surface.

“Hey, it’s Hannah. I’m sorry to call you randomly like this, but I’m having a super shitty day, and I just… needed someone to talk to. I left late this morning and that screwed everything up. I forgot a paper that was due today, and now I have this killer headache, and everything about today just sucks. Anyway, I know you’re probably at practice, so I hope you’re having a good one. I’ll… I’ll talk to you later.”

I hang up, feeling slightly embarrassed about my message. I don’t usually let people see me vulnerable like that, but I know he’ll understand. Even if he doesn’t, I know he won’t make me feel bad about it.

I drop my phone back into my purse and lean back against the wall, drawing in a deep breath as I try to tame the pounding in my temples. I should go to class, but the pain is too intense. I wince and close my eyes, hoping the ibuprofen will kick in soon.

Time passes as I sit as still as I can, doing my best to focus on anything but the pain. People walk by, and I’m aware I probably look strange sitting here with my eyes closed, but this is law school—everyone here has definitely seen worse breakdowns.

When the deep breathing doesn’t work, I press my hands over my eyes, trying to relieve some pressure.

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