As we walked inside, my stomach filled to the brim with incessant flutters—like the thrill of being at the very top of a rollercoaster right before taking that first electrifying plunge. The excitement rose until I wanted nothing more than that sensational fall to come, to see the look on everyone's faces as Desmond Warren walked in with the girl they'd thrown bets on to spite him.
With each step we took to the cages, my desire to help Dez get those jealous idiots off his back became more and more demanding. My confidence boosted as my reservations inhibited, and it felt . . . it felt like a fragment of who I used to be was coming back, even if just for the night.
I wasn't sure yet if that was a good thing.
Before we entered the hall that led to the batting cages, I squeezed Dez's arm lightly, pulling him back to stop. "Wait."
He half-grinned. "Change your mind already, Peacock?"
"No. It's just, we should probably set some ground rules first, shouldn't we?"
"Rules . . . " Dez hummed the word, considering.
"Limits to how we're going to act tonight. What we're comfortable with and what we're not."
"Yeah, I got that." He gave a small laugh. "Sure, why not? Did you have any rules in mind?"
"Well, no." I bit my lip, thinking it over. "What about pet names? Do you usually call girls by their names or are you a 'babe' and 'baby' type of guy?"
Dez gave me a sidelong glance. "If this is some ploy to get me to stop calling you Peacock, I won't do it."
It wasn't. But I still said, "Why not?"
His eyes narrowed. "Because I'm not going to belittle you by calling you something completely characterless, even if it's for pretend. You can call just about anyone 'babe' or 'baby' and it doesn't have to mean anything." He added firmly, almost demanding, "But you're my Peacock."
I brushed off the leap in my chest as I said, my tone forcibly dull, "I didn't realize Peacock was a term of endearment now."
Dez lifted a shoulder, neither confirming nor denying it.
"Okay . . . then what should I call you?"
"Whatever your heart desires." He wiggled his brows. "Stud, Hunk, Dreamy . . . the possibilities are pretty endless."
"I think I'll stick to prick."
"Only if you promise not to call anyone else that." He winked.
I shook my head. "Only you would think that being called a prick is special."
Dez laughed. "Alright, alright. So pet names are flexible. But I actually thought of a rule—obviously we have to stay quiet about this being a pretend date, right? So no mention of it even after today. "
"What about Hannah and Lewis?"
"What about them?"
"Shouldn't they know what we're up to? So they can vouch for us if need be."
"Good point." Dez pursed his lips. "Fine. Hannah and Lewis can know, but no one else."
"Sounds good to me." It would be easier to explain to Hannah why I was going to be around Dez all night if I didn't have to hide it from her.
"Anything else to add before we go in?" he said.
I glanced at the ceiling, running through ideas until I looked back at Dez, the way a corner of his lips rose as my gaze somehow landed right on them. And then almost without realizing it, I said, "Kissing."
His mouth parted in surprise—until it shifted into a wide, flashing grin. "I mean if that's what you really want . . . "
"As in no kissing," I added quickly, "It could make things weird later on, you know?"
"Why would it make things weird?"
"Because I'm not actually your groupie?" I crossed my arms.
"No, you certainly aren't." He chuckled, mirroring my stance. "But not to worry. I never kiss on the first date."
"I'm finding that hard to believe."
"Believe it. I don't kiss the girls." He added slyly, "The girls kiss me."
"Sure, Dez. Blame the poor girls."
His grin became feline.
I rolled my eyes. "You're a menace."
"But incredibly charming?"
"Try overconfident."
"It's all part of the charm."
I snorted, earning myself a quick glare from Dez, but I didn't have the time to say anything else as he closed the space between us in one smooth stride, placing his hands around my waist and yanking me towards him so that we were nearly standing toe to toe.
"Back to the rules," he said, his expression suddenly serious, no trace of the obnoxious grin plastered on it only moments ago. "We've got to make this date believable somehow, and if I can't kiss you . . . " Dez's gaze fell to my lips, something in it darkening.
His fingers tightened around my waist just slightly, tugging me closer, and his voice was low—almost strained as he breathed, "Then is this allowed?"
I nodded, suddenly unable to form words—even though all he was technically doing was just holding me. Beneath my chest, my heart had kicked into overdrive, but I didn't tear my gaze away from his, not when I knew exactly where it would land.
"And this . . . " He languidly dragged one of his hands from my waist up to my cheek, the pad of his thumb tenderly grazing my cheekbone before tracing a soft line down to my jaw. "Is this against the rules?"
I suppressed the shivers that fought to run through my body. "No."
"What about this?" Dez whispered, bringing that thumb down to my bottom lip, tracing it with gentleness I didn't know existed. I told myself not to look, but it seemed my eyes had other plans. They fell to his lips, which were now an inch from mine—and stayed there for a moment before I brought my gaze back to his. Dez's eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them, but somehow all the more enthralling.
"Or this." He all but growled as his hand fell back in place around my waist, his fingers contracting, pressing his hard body flush to mine. He leaned his face in closer and waited, no doubt for me to pull back or to tell him to back off.
I didn't.
Dez tilted his head, heavy-lidded, his nose just barely grazing mine. A dangerous line we were dancing on, but I felt his cool breath tickling my lips as he said, "If you aren't careful you might find yourself breaking your own rule tonight, Peacock."
My heart roared in my ears.
But I gritted my teeth as I said flatly, "I'll make sure to control myself." His citrus-and-mint scent had washed over me in his proximity. Even with the hint of sweat on his shirt from being in the cages, he still smelled amazing. Better. And I wanted to kick myself in the head for even considering what would happen if I did indeed break that rule. If I closed that space between his lips and mine—
Dez shut his eyes before taking a deep, steadying breath. When he opened them, the amber in his gaze burned in a way I'd only ever once seen in my dreams, like the sun's molten hot surface, blinding but captivating.
"I knew there was a reason I liked you. It's that smart mouth of yours." He half-smiled, finally dropping his arms from my waist as he said, his breath a bit uneven, "Congrats, Peacock. It appears you are resistant to my charms."
I released a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, pushing him away from me completely. Space. I needed space. I couldn't think. What was I thinking? Kissing Dez? No—no. Surely it was because I held my breath for far too long that my brain was depleted of oxygen.
When I did catch my breath, what he said had finally hit me and I scowled. "You were testing me?"
"Don't worry." Dez wasn't smiling. And his chest was still rising and falling heavily as he said, "It was a test for me, too." He looked back down at me for a second before he suddenly stiffened at the sight of something behind me. Before I could ask, he turned away and said, "I'll be right back. I have to talk to Lewis."
I didn't get another word in as he practically ran back inside.
It was only half a heartbeat later that Hannah's voice came from behind me.
"That was the hottest thing I have ever seen."
I snapped around to face her so quickly, I felt a fleeting case of whiplash. "Hannah! What the hell! How long have you been standing there?"
The cheeky grin on her face was answer enough. No wonder Dez had run off so fast. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks, and I knew it was silly, but it felt as if she'd caught us in the middle of committing some sort of crime.
Hannah crossed her arms, those electric green eyes sparkling with mischief as she said, "Explain yourself right now, Lyra Callaway."
So I did. I caught her up to my conversation with Dez at the park last night, from the moment we planned her and Lewis's reunion, to the part where we ran into Serena and her dog—as well Serena's reaction to seeing me and how it led to Dez's proposal . . . to where we stood now. I skipped the parts where I learned and carelessly admitted to knowing Dez's secret, but she got the gist of it—the pretend date, revenge on his teammates while also getting them to back off, getting the girls to back off too.
Hannah jumped up and down, squealing when I was done. "Oh my god. You so like him." She latched on to my arms, hugging me like we'd won the lottery. "You know what this means? We can double date now!"
"It's not like that." I chuckled. It was hard not to laugh at her enthusiasm. "He did something nice for me and I'm just returning the favor."
Hannah rolled her eyes. "Oh please. In the time I've known you, I don't think I've seen you out in public more than I've seen you in these past few weeks, and that doesn't include the bookstore. First the bonfire, then the diner with Dez, then the park. Now the batting cages? Who do you think you're fooling, Callaway?"
"First of all, I went to the bonfire for you. Not Dez," I said. "And second of all, I'm telling you it's not like that. I'm just returning the favor because of how he tried to protect me at the bonfire and how he saved me from Evan. That's all."
She jutted her chin up, still unconvinced. "So, what were you two doing just now? Don't tell me you were just returning the favor, Lyra, because that's one hell of a way to say thanks—"
"Jeez, Hannah! No!" I shook my head. "What you saw just now was . . . practice."
She arched a brow, her voice stale as she repeated, "Practice."
"We had to make sure our pretend date was believable." I forced a quick smile as I patted her arm, "Looks like it was. Thanks, Han."
She narrowed her eyes. "You really don't like him like that?"
I shrugged. "Nope."
"But why not?"
"Because we're just friends."
And if it were possible, her eyes narrowed even more—"Lyra, he's gorgeous, funny, smart, athletic, and most importantly, he cares about you. Or at least cares about you enough to do what he did for you."
"What's your point?"
"Oh my god. Are you serious?" Hannah gaped. "What more could you possibly want in a guy?"
"Look, just because someone seems virtually perfect doesn't always mean you have to date them. There's such a thing as being just friends—"
"Bullshit," she spat, cutting me off. "That whole guys and girls can be friends thing? I get it. But it's total bullshit for two people who have as much chemistry as you two."
"Well we are Chemistry partners . . . " I laughed, giving her a nudge with my elbow.
She frowned at me.
"Lame joke?"
Hannah nodded. "Extremely." But then she uncrossed her arms and relaxed, shaking her head as she finally accepted my answer. "I can't believe you've never thought of Dez that way. You might actually be insane."
I shrugged, though I didn't bother to tell her that I had thought of Dez that way. Of course I had. How could I not? Hell, even my dreams had shouted for me to think of him that way. But I couldn't keep thinking of him that way. To invite him into my shit-show of a life as anything more than a friend, to let him get close enough that he could possibly get involved . . . I could never do that to Dez. Not when he deserved so much better.
Besides, he had enough female attention that just being his friend felt worlds more special.
Hannah sighed. "Alright well, I told Lewis I was just going to the bathroom so I'd better head back. You're coming out to dinner with us later, I assume? Since you're now Dez's date."
I smiled and gave her a nod. "Yeah, I'll see you in a bit."
I waited for Dez in the hall for a few more minutes after she left before I decided to go back in there and find him myself, but as soon as I walked in, I noticed a figure leaning against the wall to my right.
"Hey," I said as I walked towards the golden-eyed boy, who'd been staring blankly at the cages ahead of us. His eyes flicked to mine before he blinked—and blinked again, as if he were snapping out of a daze.
Finally, Dez pushed himself from the wall and met me where I stood. "Hey."
I studied the slightly dropped curve to his lip. "Is something wrong? Did everything go alright with Lewis?"
"What?" He cocked his head before blinking again, as if he were still shaking remnants of whatever stupor he was in out of his mind. "Oh—yeah. We're good. He and I kind of got into it after school today. I said some really awful things—things I didn't mean but shouldn't have said anyway."
"Because you thought he told me?" About his secret. The one only Dez, Lewis, his father, and his brother knew about.
And now me and Ethan, too.
Dez nodded, his face solemn, and I felt a stitch of guilt because I knew that it was my fault for not being able to explain how I knew. "Did he forgive you?"
"He did."
"That's good, right?"
"I don't know, Peacock. He forgave me, yes. He understood why I freaked out. But—he always understands. Whatever the deal is, Lewis always understands." Dez shook his head, his gaze falling once again. He exhaled before adding, "I don't deserve him."
I had a gnawing feeling in my gut Dez felt that way about more than just Lewis.
Even after all he'd done. For me, for his brother, and god knew who ever else he'd already sacrificed himself for. Was there anything he felt he did deserve?
I stepped forward, looking into those eyes I'd too quickly grown accustomed to, but that warmth—the fire that was in them in the hall only minutes ago had died out.
So I gently placed my hand on Dez's cheek, his skin soft beneath my touch, urging him to look at me as I said, "He understands because he knows you're a good person. Just like I know you're a good person, who deserves things that are just as amazing as you are. So don't give me that shit about not deserving him. Because if you don't deserve Lewis's friendship, then I sure as hell don't deserve yours."
Slowly, Dez's hand found its way on top of mine. He pressed my hand to his cheek, as if he were branding himself with it, his expression tight. He swallowed. "You know, you might just be the best fake date I've ever had." He brought our hands down, keeping them laced between us.
"I'm the only fake date you've ever had." I began to roll my eyes until I stopped and glanced up at him—"Aren't I?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Dez gave me a crooked smile, but I honestly didn't care what the answer was. All that mattered to me in that moment was seeing that flare of warmth gradually reach his eyes again.
And then, as if finally, truly snapping out of his daze, Dez looked around us before he suddenly tugged on my hand and pulled me close, maneuvering me to his side as he draped his arm over my shoulder. He leaned into my ear, smiling, "I hope you're ready for our big performance because it looks like we've captured our audience."
I glanced up, realizing he was right. All around us, the sounds of bats against balls had died out, conversations were down to a soft buzz, and there was only the steady hum of the pitching machines to cover what would have been one very long and awkward silence. Most of the boys were just openly staring, while a few others at least attempted to look busy. All the girls that had been waiting by Dez's cage were now crossing their arms, raking their pretty little gazes over me and sizing me up. Even Hannah and Lewis were in their corner of the room, looking at us with those secret smiles.
"What's the big deal?" I said to Dez, "I know this isn't the first time these people have seen you with a girl."
He chuckled, the sound reverberating against my body as he pressed me closer to his side. "It's not. Apparently this is just the reaction I get when people see me with you."
I pursed my lips and nodded, but for once, I didn't hate the feel of all those stares on me. I didn't particularly like them, but—tonight, I knew I could handle them.
"Come on then." Dez shook his head, his grin widening as he led us forward, back to the cage where his bat and helmet awaited. He didn't just ignore everyone's shocked murmurs as we walked past them, he savored them—just as much as I did. "This is going to be a lot more fun than I imagined."
I couldn't agree more.
***
His teammates were still finishing up their last sets when we reached his cage, so Dez and I took a seat on the metal benches protruding from the walls as we waited. I watched as the boy at the plate swung, ball after ball—and I knew it was wrong to compare, but none of his hits even fractioned the sheer power of Dez's earlier ones. As I glanced at the rest of the cages, I quickly realized why he had been named captain. Not just because his hits were the most consistently impressive, but because whenever someone had landed even half a good a hit as any of Dez's, they'd spent a lingering moment praising themselves for it—whereas Dez had only gotten back into his stance, ready to hone his craft to perfection.
It was where the cocky Dez ended and the humble one began. And I knew there was no right or wrong way to be arrogant, but if there was, it seemed to me that Dez would have it down to a tee.
"So," he said as I sat down next to him, "what do your parents do?"
I frowned. "We're really going to have this conversation? Are you going to ask me my favorite color, too?"
He tipped his head back, laughing. "What is your favorite color, anyway?"
I threw him a dry look.
"If you and I are going to be friends," Dez's mouth twitched, "we have to start somewhere, right? It's not like I'll get to learn much about you while we're busy arguing over the laws of thermodynamics. Besides, you know my favorite color—it's only fair if I know yours."
"I didn't ask for your favorite color, Dez. You tossed it at me."
"Come on, Peacock." He nudged me with his elbow. "It's a color. Not a social security number."
I narrowed my eyes at him, but I eventually looked away as I muttered, "Indigo."
"Indigo?" There was pleasant surprise in his voice. "That's different."
I nodded.
"Why indigo?"
"Why blue?"
"I don't know." Dez smirked, some secret lining those upturned lips. "Just because."
"That's a lame reason."
"Is yours any better?"
I shrugged. And cheesy as it was, I admitted, "Indigo is the color of the sky when the world's asleep." When I was able to talk to the stars. When I was able to pray to them and wish. To hope.
Dez didn't respond and I twisted in my seat to find him just—staring. But that small, adorable dimple was pressed into his right cheek as he looked at me, his eyes swirling like honey. I blinked, momentarily stunned—and utterly unable to tear my gaze away from him.
His grin turned roguish.
I rolled my eyes.
"Back to your parents," Dez said, a bit too coolly, "What does your dad do?"
"My dad . . . "Is the CEO of one of the biggest architecture firms in the country.
I cleared my throat. "He's an architect."
"And your mom?"
Is a gold-digging woman who abandoned me and my father when we needed her most.
"She lives in Manhattan with her boyfriend."
Fiancé, a voice in the back of my head reminded me. My stomach did a sick turn as I thought of her again, at how it was just last night that she'd slapped me with that news. Never mind that she'd actually slapped me—I'd have preferred the sting of her hand twice over the fact that she was so easily able to forget us and jump into her nauseatingly perfect new life.
Dez waited, probably for the story behind my bitter tone, but I changed the subject. "What about your parents?"
A pause, and then—"My mom died when I was four."
It felt as if an anchor had dropped onto my chest. But Dez only shrugged as he caught my expression. "I was too young to remember half of it. My dad remarried a few years after. Tracy Pike, Cassidy's mom. She's an artist, and a damned good one. And my dad—"
"Warren! You're up!" The kid who'd just been batting walked out of the cage, taking his bat and helmet with him as he headed to the nearest drinking fountain. Dez stood, extending his hand towards me.
"Well that story can wait. Let's go," he said as I stared at his hand. "It's our turn."
My eyebrows shot up. And I tried not to sound too panicked as I said, "Our?"
Dez snorted, reaching for my hand and hauling me up anyway. I tried to pull back, take my seat back on the bench, but his grip around my hand was firm.
"Dez, I can't. Please, I'll just embarrass you."
"I trust you." He let go of my hand, but only to face me and say, "Do you trust me?"
"Yes, but—"
"Then trust me when I say I'll take care of you." He stepped aside, giving me a view of the cage ahead of us. "I'm not going to manhandle you in there, but I'm done practicing for the day and I just want to have fun—and I'd really like to do that with my date." He said the last word loud enough that several heads turned to us, waiting to see what I did next. The girls who'd been crowding his cage earlier were still there, waiting for him to take his turn. Dez's eyes glowed with the challenge, urging me to choose how I spent the next half or hour or so—out there with them . . . or in that cage—with him.
And he did so because he knew precisely which one I would pick.