Chapter Thirty-Five Declan

Chapter Thirty-Five

Declan

Three Years Ago

Declan was flying. He was in the prime of his life. He lived in a fucking mansion. Pranks paid his bills. He was untouchable. He flashed grins to the few remaining guests as he passed, but they were all a blur. He was looking for Blaine. They needed to go over any remaining shots. Make sure no footage was missing for the pilot.

Declan didn't make it far in his search, though. He heard a strangled noise from the other side of the hall. He turned a corner to see Liam and Wyatt getting into it.

"That's not okay, dude."

"?'S okay, shhhe ashked me. In the game." Wyatt lunged toward the bathroom, but Liam tightened his grip on Wyatt's arm, wrenching him back.

"She said no." Liam remained firm. "You're fucked up on something. You need to chill out."

"Shuddup, pretty boy. You have allll the girls. Leave me juss one," Wyatt slurred.

Declan moved closer, swaying on his feet and bumping into the wall only twice. The girl lingering in the bathroom door became clear. Willa. Her cheeks were blotchy and red, like she'd been crying a lot.

Declan's stomach did this twisty thing like it sometimes did when he pulled a prank and someone got angry. That instinctive this is wrong feeling that he always quashed way down.

Shit, this was going to harsh his high.

"What's going on?" he asked. Liam and Wyatt answered at the same time.

"We were hookin' up. She wanted to."

"He assaulted her."

Wyatt reacted immediately and vehemently to Liam's version. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Noooooooo. 'S not what happened."

"I didn't ask you to kiss me during the game," Willa cut in. "I didn't come on to you at all. I don't know what you're talking about, Wyatt. Just leave me alone."

"Consent is key, bro," Declan said with a sigh. "Take the L."

Wyatt's eyes searched for an ally, but finally his shoulders slumped, like a prizefighter who'd lost the bout. Liam sprang into action. He shepherded Willa downstairs, promising to get her water and a snack.

Every party had the moment where it hit its apex: that most glorious, epic moment. The highest high. And somewhere after that, things turned sour. Only in hindsight could you see that last, shining moment for what it was.

This was the sour turn.

And everyone had come out to watch. Delaney, Eden, and Camille were behind him on the landing, watching the scene. Blaine hovered at the back, camera rig angling in on the action.

"Hey, man, I think you can stop filming," Declan said.

"Roger that," Blaine said. "I think it might be time to take Wyatt home. Carly was a bad idea."

Declan didn't know who Carly was, but he nodded, fist-bumped Blaine a goodbye.

To add insult to injury, Delaney was rapt, watching Liam as he played white knight to Willa. Was that the kind of guy she wanted? Should he tell her about how technically he was the one who'd de-escalated things? Declan was a good guy. Liam was merely cleaning up the scraps.

"I need more water," Camille said. "Maybe I can flush this thing out before Monday…."

"God, yes, I hate this feeling." Delaney followed Camille down the stairs, leaving Declan and Eden alone.

" That was wild," she husked into his ear, then hung on to his shoulder like a sexy barnacle. "But I think Blaine got most of the good stuff on video."

Declan rounded on her, eyes narrowed. "Piper didn't spike our drinks, did she?"

Eden smiled coquettishly. "I was doing you a favor."

"I don't think the others appreciate it very much."

"And you?"

"I was having a great time until five minutes ago," Declan admitted.

Eden draped her arms over Declan's shoulders, nuzzled in close to his neck. "You could have a good time again. With me."

Eden had an intoxicating effect, her voice curling in his ear, the sweet floral notes of her perfume enveloping him. And the drugs made it easy…and Declan liked things easy. Uncomplicated. Delaney came with so many questions. Eden was an answer.

"Yeah." Declan shot a look over Eden's shoulder, as if to manifest his girlfriend. A last-ditch effort to be someone different.

But this party was over. Past its apex, barreling toward the bitter end. So fuck it.