Page 1 of Truce: Declan
ONE
Charlotte
"Do you swear this isn't a prank?" I ask Amber, my best friend. She's lying on my mattress in my apartment on campus, her chin resting on her hands and her feet kicked up from behind.
"Not a prank. Jasper has been telling me how Noah keeps going on about the hot redhead whom I hang out with. Hence, you," she says, staring at me without so much as a smirk.
I roll my lips together. "I don't have anything to wear!"
I'm not usually the frantic, nervous girl falling apart before a date. I've done my fair share of dating, although it tends to mainly consist of college boys and not professional hockey players.
I've had eyes for Noah Reece since the moment I saw him on the ice. Thankfully, Amber's love interest is Jasper Greyson, and they both play for the Ice Dragons, so there's no rivalry among friends.
"You have an entire closet of clothes I'd die for," Amber says.
"Yeah, but there's nothingnewin there. I've worn it all before on dozens of other dates with guys I don't want to think about."
Amber quirks a grin and sits on my bed, sliding her legs around so they dangle off the mattress. "Just wear something casual. It's a coffee date with Noah Reece, not an extravagant black-tie affair."
"I don't do casual." Doesn't my friend know that about me? I like to dress sexy, but right now, every outfit in my closet is taunting me with my past, mocking me.
Amber snorts at my remark, and I reach for a pillow on the bed and toss it at her face.
"All you do is casual," she says. "You don't do boyfriends."
She's right, but I like Noah, and that thought alone sends butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Casual is easy. It keeps things from getting messy and complicated. I have enough drama to deal with between NYU and my job keeping me busy. When do I have time for a boyfriend?
I run a hand through my hair.
Who is to say Noah wants anything serious anyway? He's a professional hockey player. Maybe he's looking for a good time with a new fling? I could be that girl. That's who I'm used to being anyhow.
I glare at Amber. "You're rubbing off on me."
Her brow pinches. "What? How?"
I don't tell her that her anxiety seems to have been thrown at me and stuck like an annoying parasite, stealing my sanity.
"Find me something to wear," I say.
She pushes herself off the bed, rummages through my closet, and produces a black leather jacket, dark green shirt, and short black mini skirt. "Wear this with those hot lace-up boots."
"I thought this was casual drinks?" I ask, staring at the outfit Amber picked out. Nothing about it is quiet or friend-like; it screamslet's hook up. At least, that's why I've worn it in the past. And do I want to hook up with Noah Reece?
Yes, of course.
I'd throw myself at him if it wouldn't get me a restraining order.
He's a ten. He's hot. A professional hockey player. And single.
Why would he be interested in me?
I'm a regular girl, nobody famous. No one interesting, at least not in his world of professional athletes and superstars. The man has dated models. Well, I'm not sure if he's dated them or just taken them to fancy events, but there's always a gorgeous blonde on his arm.
Me?
I'm a redhead, which doesn't fit his type. Fiery. Fierce. And I don't play games.
I quickly get dressed and apply a heavy dose of eyeliner and makeup. I run my fingers through my thick hair, staring back at the mirror, trying to look sexy without it being overkill. I want to be sexy without trying to be, especially knowing what I'm up against, and I'm sure it's easier for one of his model girlfriends. They probably have an entire team dressing them and doing their hair and makeup.
