When Sparks Fly

A glass of white wine is sitting on the end table and the cushions are already set up for me, along with my quilt. A bottle of lavender body lotion rests against Declan’s leg. He runs his hands down his thighs and stands when I move into his peripheral vision. “I thought maybe you could use some pampering and a little bit of a celebration maybe? I know how hard it’s been on you not being able to manage everything yourself.”

“This is really sweet, Declan, but you didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“It wasn’t any trouble. I just took a bunch of stuff out of the cupboard and put it on the cheese board like I’ve seen Harley do before.” He chews on his bottom lip. “And I picked up a couple of bottles of your favorite wine. I know most of the time all we have is beer, so I thought it would be nice.” He takes my crutches and offers his hand.

“This is great, Deck, thank you.”

As much as I want to dive right into doing everything on my own again, I’m aware that Declan also needs to feel needed, and I have to be careful about how hard I push. So I let him fuss over me while I continue to do what I can to keep the burden off him.

He settles my legs in his lap and holds up the bottle of lotion. “I thought I could massage your legs while we chill and watch TV.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

He gives me that look, the one I used to get all the time when he forgot to unload the dishwasher, or left his gross sweaty gym clothes in the washing machine without turning it on. “Do you not want me to?”

I don’t know why I’m so reluctant to have his hands on me when that’s been my predominant craving over the last several weeks. “They don’t look very nice at the moment, that’s all.”

He starts the movie and reaches over to turn off the lamp on the side table. It isn’t until we’re submerged in near darkness that he pushes my jogging pants up my calves to my knees. He runs his palms gently up my shins and back down. The left one, so bony and underdeveloped, is also hypersensitive, having been protected for the last eight weeks. His fingertips drag down, sending a shiver rushing up my spine.

When he gets to my ankle, my first instinct is to pull away, but he settles his palm on top of my foot. “Is it sensitive?”

“Yeah.” I nod and take a sip of wine, working not to psych myself out.

“Does your ankle hurt?” He skims along the scars on both sides.

“More like a dull ache. It’s stiff from being in the same position for so long. Bending is unnatural now, you know? It’s going to take some work to get the range of motion back is all.”

“I’m happy to help with that.”

“Are you now?” I fight a smile.

“For sure.” He presses his palm against the sole of my foot and pushes my knee up. “Working on your range of motion is definitely a boyfriend duty.”

His gaze meets mine, wide and uncertain.

It’s the first time he’s ever said anything about this being an actual relationship, let alone referred to himself as my boyfriend. I don’t want to upset the balance, especially not today. “Is there a list of duties I should know about?”

“I’m kind of making it up as I go along.” He taps his temple. “Obviously orgasms are on the top of that list. Watching rom-coms even when there’s a basketball game on, helping with your range of motion, preferably in a multitasking kind of situation where I’m also giving you orgasms seems ideal. You know, two birds, one stone.”

“Plus you get something out of it too.”

“There is that.” He kisses my ankle. “I don’t want to mess this up, Ave. I don’t want to mess us up.”

“Why would you think you’d mess us up?” I ask carefully.

“I’m new to this. To the whole being in a relationship thing.”

“We’ve been friends forever, Deck. I know we’re taking it to a new level, and there are obviously differences between being just friends and what we are to each other, but you’re too loyal to do anything that could mess what we have up.”

“I don’t know if Sam would agree with that.”

Declan never talks about Sam. It’s almost as if he never existed, so the fact that he’s bringing him up now puts me on edge. “Sam doesn’t really have the market cornered on loyalty, and I’m not sure what he has to do with us.”

He bites the inside of his lip, thinking for a moment before he answers. “He doesn’t. Not directly. I don’t ever want to put our friend group at risk, not like it was when Sam screwed things up.”