by Ellie Hall
If you haven’t noticed, I’m not the kind of guy who listens when he’s told what to do.
I’ve noticed that you’re very contrary. What if I say, yes, by all means, try to get me to laugh? Will you do the opposite?
Not a chance. She could imagine the defiance on his lips as if he had spoken the words out loud to her.
Then she couldn’t stop thinking about his lips. Why do you want to get me to laugh?
Because I want to see you smile.
Her heart leaped in her chest as though trying to throw itself into the words, get closer to the possibility in the comment, that someone cared. She thought of his easy smile, his smirk, and the Cheshire grin that revealed his teeth. But none of them seemed like his real smile. She knew there was more to Declan than he revealed.
Why’s that? she finally wrote back.
Because I have a feeling your smile is the kind that can light up a room.
Then in a separate text, he wrote, a city.
Then in a third bubble came the words, the whole world.
Her heart was racing, the bluebirds were going bananas, and she was practically levitating off the bed. Another text came on his phone. Where are you tonight? I miss you. Only it was from someone named Brandi.
Maggie’s heart stilled. Cinderella’s bluebirds in her belly crash-landed. Declan was probably buttering her up and flattering her so she’d give him a good review and tell his football coach and the commissioner that he’d passed the program.
Here’s something that will make you smile, she wrote. Brandi is looking for you.
Brandi? he wrote back instantly.
She misses you.
Should I know who Brandi is? he asked.
Someone in your contacts. Oh, wait, she sent another text. She said that it’s lonely in the hot tub without you. Maggie knew that it was stupid to have gotten her hopes up that he might have been interested. Stupid because she was his coach and stupid because obviously, she was not the kind of girl he usually dated.
In fact, she did possibly the worst thing imaginable in that moment. Using his phone, she did a search on the internet browser for Declan Woods’s girlfriend. The open tab quickly populated with photos of him and a string of different women on his arm in each one. Maggie closed it immediately.
His pause was long, but the speech bubble had three blinking dots.
She wrote, I should bring you your phone. He probably wanted to reply to Brandi.
About getting you to laugh...Open up the photos app.
That was the last thing she wanted to do. There were probably pictures of Brandi and him. But the most recent photo dated earlier that day caught her eye. Declan stood with a teenager with scars on his face. They were in a recovery center somewhere in Concordia. The timestamp indicated it was taken shortly before he was supposed to meet her for dinner. She could no longer be mad at him for being late, but nothing about the image made her laugh. Instead, her heart thumped again as she was reminded of how precious life was.
Scroll up and you should find a picture of me wearing a face mask. They say charcoal is good for the skin. Got to keep up my good looks. Ya know?
In fact, there was an image of Declan wearing a bright yellow robe with a gray mask on his face. It appeared as if he was at a spa.
Involuntarily, the space around Maggie’s eyes crinkled and her lips quirked.
Did that do the trick? he asked.
She didn’t want to admit that it had almost made her laugh.
When she didn’t answer, he tried again. Okay, I’ll take that as a no. Tough customer. Keep scrolling. There’s a photo of me in Indonesia. You’ll know you’re there when you see me in a pair of Boston Bruisers board shorts. Reply when you’re done laughing.
She felt weird being on his phone like she was prying, but she did as he suggested. She passed loads of photos of him and other celebrities, football players, and him on the field. She didn’t see any with him and other women or family for that matter. Not that she was looking that carefully.
At last, she came to a string of photos with sunsets, beaches, and a waterfall. She stopped at an image of Declan seated on a rock, face twisted, wide-eyed, and next to a monkey who was wearing the exact same expression. Seeing him shocked like that sent a roll of laughter through Maggie, but what really got her going was that it was as if the monkey felt the exact same way as Declan did. Like they’d accidentally sat down next to each other, glanced over and thought what the heck are you doing there?
Either you’re hysterical right now or selling my secrets to the media.
When she managed to stop laughing, she wrote, Are there secrets on this phone?
You tell me. Will you listen to a message starting with the numbers... He listed out a string of digits—a foreign phone number.
I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’m not exactly interested in what Brandi has to say.
It’s not from Brandi. It’s from my best friend’s mother...I think.
You should probably listen to it yourself, she wrote.
I don’t want to. Without being able to see his face and read his expression, she wasn’t sure what to make of that comment. He added, I have a feeling it’s bad news.
...Or maybe your best friend heard you were in Concordia and wants to visit you.
Unlikely.
Meet me in the hall. She had to give him the phone back. She didn’t want to overstep bounds. Whether the message had good news or bad news, he ought to listen to it himself.
Do you mean the hot tub? It was like he’d let her see some of the real Declan, well, via text message and then reverted to the flirt that he showed the world.
I mean I’m going to give you your phone back.
Your dad messaged you, Declan wrote in a text.
Maggie’s stomach swam as it always did anytime she thought of her parents. Part of her was excited and the other part filled with the dread that came before crushing disappointment. Are you reading my messages?
You read mine. But no, a notification slid down from the top of the screen, he texted.
What did it say? Maybe if he delivered the content it would soften the blow.
I’ll only tell you if you listen to the message from that number I gave you.
Why was she trusting him with that? Meet me in the hall she repeated.
First, she rinsed off the face mask and pulled on a bulky Disney sweatshirt.
It only took Maggie two turns in the unfamiliar corridors to get completely lost. The antique sconces flickered on the walls. She cast a long shadow as she padded along the plush carpet. She realized that meet me in the hall could mean any number of places. The old manor probably had miles of halls.
A creek and a whooshing whistle came from somewhere behind her. A shiver pebbled across her skin, but she continued. As Maggie rounded a corner, a scraping noise made her turn around. It was followed by a bang. She turned around to see if it was Declan, but the hallway was empty. The manor was probably haunted.
As she backed up slowly, she bumped into something solid and warm and just as a scream was about to come out of her mouth, a hand clamped down over it.
Chapter 6
Declan
The last thing Declan needed to happen was to startle Maggie, cause her to scream, and then have her boss or whoever was in charge at the school find them in the hall together during that late hour. He knew all too well how that would look. It would mean Wolf, Chase, Gray, and he were off the team. Rules broken. Lives ruined.
He’d texted Maggie numerous times after she’d said to meet him in the hall, but she didn’t reply so he went to meet her.
“Shh,” he hissed in her ear, trying not to be distracted by how warm and soft she was in his arms, which was difficult considering she was elbowing him and trying to kick him. “Hey, it’s me.”
She said something, but it was muffled.
Declan clarified, “I’m sorry if I startled you, but if anyone catches us out here, my career is over. I’m g
oing to let you go, just please don’t scream,” he whispered.
She nodded.
He released his hands and held them aloft to show that he meant no harm. “I acted on instinct when we bumped into each other.”
She smoothed her hair and cast him a glare.
The fact of the matter was that every time they met resulted in some kind of calamity and each time, it was his fault. He bit his lip, wanting to make it better because he meant what he’d said about making her laugh—certainly not scream.
“Here’s your phone,” she said, holding it out.
He didn’t take the device from her palm. “I’m hungry. Want to raid the kitchen with me?” He knew he had mischief written all over his face.
“You said you were worried about getting in trouble.”
“Yeah, Coach Hammer said if any one of us did anything to jeopardize our time here, if we screwed up, we’re all off the team.” His lips quirked because in any other circumstance he’d totally break the rules, but he was loyal to the guys. They were his family.
That gave her pause. “Explain exactly how going to raid the kitchen like two kids at a sleepover is not asking for trouble.”
“It’s only trouble if we get caught.” He winked. “But the kind of trouble the coach was talking about was, er, the lady kind.”
Did she understand what he meant? It implied hooking up with her.
“Well, good thing Brandi is an ocean away.”
Apparently not. He didn’t flirt with Maggie the same way he’d have done with the Brandis of the world. He was afraid to admit it, but Maggie made him feel different. He didn’t care about Brandi. It made him sound like a jerk, but he wasn’t exactly sure who Brandi was—there were loads of girls and groupies. Wolf probably gave Brandi his number. So many of those women were after one of two things: a moment in the spotlight or money. It made him sound callous, but time and time again, they’d proven it to be true. So he made sure to keep things simple, superficial, and brief. Feeling used wasn’t all that appealing.
“Come on, I bet there’s some ice cream around here.”
“I prefer cake,” Maggie said, wearing a pout.
“Ice cream and cake go perfectly together.”
She rolled her eyes.
Before she could protest, he said, “Come on, I think I passed the kitchen on my way up here.” Without thinking, he grabbed her hand, meaning to pull her along because he was sure she’d scurry back to her room. He expected her to jerk it away.
However, her hand slid into his and stayed there. He could hardly focus on retracing his steps because of the way his heart was pounding in his chest, clouding his thoughts. When was the last time he felt that way? He knew exactly when because it was the only other time.
Declan managed to find the kitchen. When he pressed the door open, Maggie let go of his hand, leaving him suddenly cold. Maybe he didn’t want ice cream. Perhaps he preferred cake too.
Although the school building was like taking a step back in time, the kitchen was modern. The polished stainless steel glinted in the light filtering through high windows.
“Let’s see here. Where do they keep the desserts?” Declan said in a low voice.
They stood before the door of a giant walk-in freezer.
“There’s your ice cream.” Maggie pointed.
“I think it’s more of a cake kind of night after all, but where would it be?”
While they stepped quietly through the kitchen space, he asked, “What’s your favorite kind of cake? Chocolate? Vanilla? Chocolate with vanilla ice cream?” he asked, taking a guess.
“No, no, and no.”
“Oh come on, those are classics.”
“I’ve only had that combination once.”
His eyebrows crimped. “Now, I’m curious. How can you know that something isn’t your favorite if you’ve only had it once?”
She lifted and lowered a shoulder. “You might go to a theme park only once but know it was your favorite.”
“Like Disney World.”
She went still. “But I didn’t say those flavors were my favorite.
He turned to her. Having seen the viral video, he sensed it was a sore subject. “I saw the video when you fell into the fountain. You make a beautiful Cinderella, dry or wet. In light of that, I truly am sorry about the water guns. It was bad timing.”
“I haven’t seen the video. I couldn’t bear to watch it.” Her voice was small.
“If I’d let you hang onto my phone any longer, you’d have seen bloopers of me doing some ridiculous things on and off the field.”
She laughed lightly and the sound was like tinkling Christmas bells.
“I’m sorry someone captured it. Even though I don’t really care that the world saw my rear end, it wasn’t like I wanted it to go viral, be on the front page of every paper—physical or digital. So in a way, I kind of understand.”
She exhaled through her nose. “I suppose you do. But that guy who fell in with me was a slimy, nasty, leach—”
“If I ever see him, I’ll give him a taste of vanilla and chocolate,” Declan said, holding up his fists.
A smile peeked on Maggie’s lips.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m human so I know it was probably embarrassing—”
“How about humiliating, insulting and dangerous?” Hurt laced her voice.
“All of the above, but if that’s the worst you have in the past, the biggest skeleton in your closet and you survived, I say you’re doing okay.”
She nodded, but he wasn’t sure she was convinced.
“Now, how about that cake? Tell me your favorite kind.”
“You’ll laugh when I tell you.”
They turned a corner that was a dead end. Declan spun around before she had a chance to step backward and they bumped into each other. Their hands brushed and he felt ablaze from when he’d held hers earlier, leading her through the dark. Her hands were chilly. He wanted to take them again and warm them up, but he worried it could make things awkward or be met with anger from her. However, the near darkness in the kitchen gave him courage. He clasped both her hands in his and drew them close between them. With a straight face, he said, “I would never laugh at that. There is absolutely nothing funny about cake.”
The light of the moon through the high window illuminated her face. Her skin was fresh from the mask she’d done and her eyes bright. Her lips cracked into a smile and she tipped her head back with a full peal of laughter.
He laughed too and then quickly shushed them both.
She glanced from their hands to his eyes.
He wasn’t sure if they were having a real moment. He was determined to make it into one and kissed the knuckles on her hands. He said, “If your favorite kind of cake is a secret, it’s safe with me, Cinderella.”
Her breath caught.
His stopped altogether.
What was happening? What was he doing?
Playbook, playbook, playbook he repeated in his mind.
A long moment passed between them and then she drew her hands away before glancing over his shoulder and pointing at the wall. “Look. I think we found the fridge.”
Another wall hosted several stainless-steel doors with long handles.
“Ah-ha. Which do you think is the lucky door? One, two, three, or four?” he asked.
“I’m going to go with four.”
He pulled the door open and sure enough, it held all manner of desserts from cheesecake to pie to parfait. “Hmm. Where’s the cake?” There didn’t seem to be any. “Will a cupcake suffice?” he asked, pulling out a plate with several. They were topped with swirls of whipped buttercream and little white candy pearls.
“That’s perfect. It’s the official cupcake day. Or it was yesterday. Actually, I have no idea what time it is.” She sounded genuinely excited and like time didn’t matter. “Jet lag and all.”
That made him smile inwardly. “The best times I’ve ever had in my life were when I forgot what time or day it
was.”
Her shoulders sunk slightly as though the comment pinched something inside.
“This looks delicious. Care to split one with me?” he said not wanting the energy of the moment to wane.
“Usually, I share, but tonight, my dining companion had the worst manners and I lost my appetite. I hardly ate a thing. You can have your own.”
He put down his cupcake and picked her up before setting her down lightly on the stainless-steel table.
She made a little yelp of surprise and then quickly brought her hand to her mouth. “I forgot that I shouldn’t make any noise,” she whispered.
He hoisted himself up beside her and then peeled back the wrapper on the cupcake. He took a big bite. She took a tiny one. She closed her eyes a moment and then her legs started to swing as though she was a little girl who’d snuck into the kitchen for a midnight snack and was clearly pleased with herself.
He smiled privately. He finished his cupcake in a couple more bites.
She blinked open her eyes. So beautiful. “You’re lucky I’m not grading you on this. You inhaled that thing.” She’d barely made a dent in hers.
“This is definitely not an authorized lesson so I’m off the hook, but you are not,” he said.
“What do you mean?” she asked, swiveling her head to face him.
“I actually want you to listen to that message on my phone.”
“Declan, I can’t. It’s private. None of my business.”
He clasped his hands in his lap. They’d grown sweaty with nerves as remembered the past and anticipated whatever the caller had to say. “I need you to.” He felt like the message would best be received filtered through someone else.
“Why?” she asked. “The other guys on your team are here, why not have one of them do it?”
“Because they don’t know.”
“Know what?” she asked. Then added, “Whatever it is neither do I.”
“Right, but you’re not on a team with a bunch of titans. They rely on me for my constant strength and focus.”
She was quiet a long moment. “So the content of the call might show your weakness.” She was smart, quick to pick up on what he couldn’t say.