Page 36 of Beyond the Lines
“I—”
“No, Dec, time to listen, not talk.” He scrubs his hands over his face. “Look, Lea had a rough summer. The last thing she needs is?—”
“Is what? Someone who actually likes her?” The words come out sharper than intended. “Someone who spent hours talking to her about art and?—”
“And lying about who you are?” Mike’s laugh is harsh. “Yeah, that’s exactly what she needs. Stay away from her, Dec. I’m not asking.”
I want to argue. Want to tell him that maybe there are things more important than hockey. That the way Lea’s eyes lit up when she talked about her art made something warm unfurl in my chest. That her laugh at the diner was the best sound I’d heard in months.
But the way she’d stormed out was enough to tell me I’ve already screwed this up beyond repair, and that any attempt to continue to prosecute my case further with Mike would just leave himandLea hating me, so I relent.
“Fine,” I say quietly. “I’ll stay away.”
Mike nods once, then heads back up the stairs. “And clean this shit up.”
With a sigh, I survey the disaster around me. Marsala sauce drips from my hair onto my shirt. A lone cookie, somehow still intact, sits mockingly at my feet. I pick it up, staring at the chocolate chips that now seem to be arranged in a sad face.
“Well,” I say to no one, “that went great.”
seven
LEA
“And then helooked at me with those gorgeous hazel eyes…” Marnie sighs dreamily, stabbing at her salad with a plastic fork.
I nod mechanically, pushing my food around my plate. The dining hall’s fluorescent lights cast a sickly glow over everything, making the already unappetizing food on offer look even worse.
Not that I’m hungry anyway—my appetite vanished somewhere between Marnie’s detailed analysis of Trevor’s “perfect jawline” and her twenty-minute monologue about his “adorable” hair when he’s nervous.
Not as cute as Declan’s…
The thought sneaks in before I can stop it, and suddenly I’m back in Mike’s hallway, watching Declan’s fingers rake through his Marsala-soaked hair as he tries to explain. The memory hits like a sucker punch?—
Stop it,my mind screams at me.He lied to you.
“Lea?” Marnie waves her hand in front of my face. “Are you OK? You look… murdery.”
“I’m fine.” The words come out sharper than intended. “Just… tired.”
Em shoots me a knowing look across the table. She’s the only one who knows the full story about what happened with Declan. And, if not for her, I might have just packed up and gone home, feeling stupid for trusting a guy and getting hurt again only a few months after Chris.
In the few days since, I haven’t heard anything from Declan, and I’m glad. I’ve got no doubt Mike would have put the clamps on him anyway, his ‘don’t date my baby sister’ act as effective as it is infuriating, but Declan not even trying to text me puts the matter to bed anyway.
He’s just another hockey player.
Saying and doing anything to get in the freshman’s pants.
I know the kind, because my brotheristhe kind.
And I shouldn’t have been so fucking stupid.
Anyway, ancient history…
“So then,” Marnie continues, oblivious to my internal crisis, “Trevor asked if I wanted to study together sometime, and?—”
“Oh!” Em’s voice cuts through Marnie’s lovesick rambling like a merciful knife. “Did you guys hear about the food truck festival next week?”
I could kiss her.
