Page 56 of Beyond the Lines
“After you savaged my work, you mean?” I can’t resist the cheap shot, crossing my arms over my chest. “Thatclass?”
“After our… disagreement,” he says carefully, ignoring my jab, “my chances took a serious hit. This project is my way of getting back in her good graces.”
Something inside me snaps.
For a moment, I’d actually felt bad for him, with his limping and his tired eyes.
But now?
Fuck him.
Declan the Dick, indeed.
“Are you kidding me?” I take a step closer. “You think you’re the only one who wants a spot in that seminar? I showed Professor Lucas my portfolio during office hours last week, and she said as long as I keep practicing, I’d be a ‘shoo-in’ for one of the spots.”
“Lea.” He sighs. “You’re a freshman, you’ve got four years…”
“So?” I shrug. “I want that spot.”
Declan’s jaw tenses, a muscle working in his cheek. “So we’re competitors.”
“Apparently.”
We stare at each other for a long moment, the wind howling around us.
Declan blows out a breath of frosty air. “This is…”
“A nightmare?” I offer.
“I was going to say ‘unfortunate,’ but sure, let’s go with nightmare.”
We stand there, two artists with competing dreams, and mutual loathing. I’m now warm enough in his coat that my brain has stopped focusing exclusively on not freezing to death and can return to the matter at hand, but now there’s something else pressing on me.
The fact that we’re standing inches from each other for the first time since…
Sincethatkiss.
And a very small part of me wants to close the distance,wrap my arms around him, and kiss away all the anger and hurt. It would be so easy—somuch easier than being as miserable and as mad as I’d been for over a week now—and I can see from the look in his eyes he’s fighting the same battle.
I imagine what it’d be like to be held in his arms. Squeezed tight. I wonder—not for the first time, if I’m being honest—what it’d be like to be taken back to his apartment, stripped out of this coat and my clothes, and thoroughly fuckingravagedby him. The thought goes straight to my core… right between my thighs…
“Look,” Declan says. “We’re both stuck with this. We both want the same thing. So maybe we find some middle ground?”
I study him for a moment. He looks sincere, and that’s the most annoying part—I want to keep hating him, but he’s making it difficult. “What do you suggest?”
“We try a few different things. See what works for both our styles. Practice rounds before we do the first assignment.”
It’s a reasonable suggestion, which irritates me further. “Fine.”
“When are you free?”
I mentally review my schedule. “Thursday nights and Sunday afternoons. Some Tuesday evenings depending on my brother’s games.”
“Your brother’s games?” Declan’s voice sounds oddly strained.
“I promised to go to all of them,” I say with a shrug. “To support him.”
He nods, looking uncomfortable. “Library? Thursday night? Seven-thirty?”
