Page 93 of Beyond the Lines
“So I’m a disease now?”
“You know what I mean.” I sigh. “Please, Declan, this is killing me, and I just want things to be simple again…”
He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from him. His hand cups my cheek, and he brushes a tear away from my eye. “You’re drunk, Lea.”
“Not that drunk. Not anymore.” I lean into his touch despite myself. “So what do you say? Just once?”
Declan studies me for a long moment, his blue eyes darkening. He looks like he’s having an intense internal debate, which is fair—I just propositioned him out of the blue after spending the last few days acting like he was my archnemesis, and now I’m on the verge of breaking down again.
“OK, here’s what’s going to happen,” he finally says, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re going to drinksome water, get some sleep, and if you still want to…” he pauses, searching for the right words, “…work things out in the morning, we’ll revisit this conversation.”
I blink at him, not processing what he’s saying. “What?”
“You’re drunk.” He repeats, scratching the stubble on his chin. “And I’m notthatguy.”
“I told you, I’m not that drunk.” But even as I say it, I realize the room is tilting slightly, and the words come out just a touch too loud. “OK, fine, I’m a little drunk. But I know what I want, and I can’tbelieveyou’re not going to fuck my brains out when I’ve asked you to… and when that’s all I canthinkabout…”
“I want to, but I’m not taking advantage of you when you’re not completely clear-headed.” He takes my hand. “If I did, I’d be no better than Ben.”
The comparison hits me like a slap. “You’re nothing like Ben,” I protest. “Unless there’s a scoreboard in here I missed…”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’m still saying no.” His expression softens. “Look, if you wake up tomorrow still wanting this, I’m all in.”
Part of me wants to argue—the same reckless part that took off my bra at that party—but a wave of exhaustion suddenly crashes over me. I wobble slightly on my feet and Declan steadies me with a hand on my elbow. And, begrudgingly, I concede that maybe Iamalittletoo drunk.
“Fine,” I mutter. “But you’re being ridiculous.”
“Probably,” he agrees, guiding me to the kitchen counter. “Drink.”
He pours me a water and I start to drink, suddenly realizing how thirsty I am. The cold water tastes incredible going down, and I drain the entire glass before setting it on thecounter. When I look up, Declan is watching me with a caring expression that makes my insides twist.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I say.
He leads me to his bedroom. It’s small, dominated by a queen-sized bed with rumpled navy sheets. A half-finished canvas leans against one wall—something abstract with sweeping strokes of blues and grays that remind me of ocean waves in a storm.
“You take the bed,” he says. “I’ll crash on the couch.”
I sit on the edge of the mattress, suddenly hit by the absurdity of the situation. Just an hour ago, I was at a party playing strip card games with a guy I barely knew, trying to forget about Declan. Now I’m in Declan’s bedroom, and about to sleep in his bed.
Alone.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I whisper, staring at my hands. “I’m not… I don’t do things like tonight.”
Declan sits beside me, careful to leave space between us. “You’re in college. Everyone does stupid shit.”
“Not me.” My voice sounds small even to my ears. “But since I got here, since I met you... I’m out of control. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
The words hang in the air between us, too honest, too raw. I shouldn’t be saying these things to him, but they spill out anyway. And I know it’s only partly true. I’d been out of control long before I met Declan. It’s why I needed a gap year… and why I fell neck-deep into things with Chris… and why he broke me…
“You know exactly who you are, Lea,” Declan says quietly. “You’re just... figuring thingsout. We all are.”
A tear slides down my cheek and I brush it away angrily. “God, I’msuchafuckingmess.”
“A beautiful mess… a drunk mess…” he says with a small smile. “But yeah, still a mess.”
Despite everything, I laugh. “Thanks for the honesty.”
