Chapter 13: Date Nights and Declan

The city lights shimmered below as Amara stepped into the Art-Deco apartment, slipping off her heels.

Her date with Ryan had started well enough — shared laughter over dinner, lingering glances across the table — but when they had parted, she felt a hollow emptiness that she couldn't explain.

She walked to the kitchen, reaching for a tub of ice cream when she heard the soft strumming of a guitar.

Following the sound, she found Declan, engrossed in playing an old song that held memories of their shared past.

He looked up, surprise evident in his blue eyes.

"Back early?" He noted, setting the guitar aside.

She gave a rueful laugh. "Let's just say it didn't click."

He raised an eyebrow, curiosity dancing in his eyes, but he didn't press further.

Instead, he gestured to the couch. "Ice cream and reminiscing? It's been a while."

Her heart swelled with gratitude.

"Sounds perfect," she said, curling up next to him with the tub and two spoons.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, the apartment filled with the melodious tunes from Declan's playlist — indie songs they had discovered together, tracks that had become anthems of their youth.

He suddenly chuckled, breaking the quietness.

"Remember when we tried to make our own music video in high school?"

She laughed, her green eyes sparkling.

"How could I forget? Your sister's camera, my terrible lip-syncing, and that awful choreography."

He joined in her laughter, the sound wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. "The choreography wasn't that bad."

She playfully nudged him. "Says the guy who stepped on my foot."

Declan smiled, reaching over to tuck a stray strand of her hazelnut hair behind her ear.

Their fingers brushed briefly, a surge of electricity passing between them. She looked up at him, her gaze searching his face.

"Why do you always have the perfect solution to my moods?" She asked softly, her voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

He looked away for a moment, choosing his words carefully.

"I guess I've just known you long enough. You're like an open book to me."

She smirked, trying to lighten the moment. "An open book? And here I thought I was a woman of mystery."

He chuckled. "Maybe to others. But not to me."

A comfortable silence enveloped them. Amara contemplated the many dates she'd been on, each ending with her seeking solace in Declan's company.

She wondered why it felt more right, more real with him than with anyone else.

Shaking off the thought, she pointed to an old photo on the coffee table, a memory from one of their summer adventures. "Remember this? The summer before college?"

He picked it up, a soft smile playing on his lips. "The beach, that broken tent, and the rainstorm. Best and worst camping trip ever."

She laughed, recalling the chaos. "I can't believe we even thought that was a good idea."

He winked. "Yet, it's the disastrous plans that make the best memories."

As the night wore on, they journeyed down memory lane, sometimes laughing, occasionally reflective.

Through all their shared experiences, Declan had remained her unwavering rock, even if she hadn't always seen it.

Finally, she placed her empty ice cream bowl on the table, stretching her limbs.

"Thanks, Dec. You always know how to make me feel better."

He looked deep into her eyes, the weight of years of unspoken feelings pressing down.

"That's what I'm here for, Amara."

She smiled, leaning into him, their fingers intertwining naturally.

The city outside went on with its relentless pace, but inside the apartment, time seemed to stand still, two souls bound by shared memories and an unbreakable bond.

....

The morning sun streamed through the windows of the "Whimsical Brew," the cafe just around the corner from their apartment.

Declan and Amara had made it their unofficial weekend haunt, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee acting as a homely comfort.

Amara looked radiant in her bohemian chic attire, her hazelnut hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, allowing her expressive green eyes to captivate anyone they met.

Today, she was particularly animated, recounting a recent event she had planned.

Her enthusiasm was infectious, making Declan smile despite himself.

However, Declan soon noticed he wasn't the only one appreciating her charm.

Several eyes in the cafe, especially those of the male patrons, seemed drawn to Amara.

Their gazes lingered a touch too long, admiration evident.

Declan felt an irrational twinge of annoyance but pushed it aside, reminding himself that they were just friends.

As Amara paused to take a sip from her latte, a handsome stranger approached their table.

Tall, with dark, wavy hair, sharp features, and a confident stride, he extended a hand, holding a cup of coffee.

"I hope I'm not intruding," he began, his eyes fixed on Amara, "but I couldn't help but notice how enchanting you look this morning. I thought you might like another coffee, on me."

Amara looked momentarily taken aback, her cheeks turning a shade pinker.

"Oh, thank you! That's very kind of you." She shot Declan a questioning glance, seeking his thoughts.

Declan masked his unease with a polite smile. "That's generous of you, mate."

The stranger, undeterred by Declan's less than enthusiastic response, introduced himself.

"I'm Ethan. I often come here but haven't had the pleasure of seeing you before."

"Amara," she replied, her polite smile in place. "And this is Declan."

Ethan extended a hand towards Declan, the gesture oozing insincerity. "Good to meet you, Declan."

Declan met his handshake, his grip firm. "Likewise."

A brief awkward silence ensued before Ethan spoke again,

"I should probably get back to my table. Enjoy the coffee, Amara. Maybe I'll see you around?"

Amara, ever the diplomat, nodded. "Perhaps. Thanks again for the coffee."

Once Ethan was out of earshot, Declan exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"That was... forward of him."

Amara laughed softly, "You think? It's just coffee, Dec."

Declan's piercing blue eyes met hers, the unspoken thoughts heavy between them.

"I just don't like strangers approaching you like that. It's... unsettling."

She raised an eyebrow, amusement glinting in her eyes. "Jealous, Blackwood?"

He looked away, suddenly very interested in the swirls of his cappuccino. "No, just protective."

She reached across the table, her fingers brushing his. "I can take care of myself, you know."

Declan looked up, meeting her gaze. "I know you can. It's just... I've always been there for you, and I don't want anyone taking advantage."

Amara smiled gently, her hand now firmly clasping his. "I know, Dec. And I cherish that. But remember, it's just coffee."

Declan smirked, "Yeah, overpriced coffee from a stranger."

She laughed, the sound a melodious echo in the now bustling cafe. "Well, let's enjoy it, shall we? After all, free coffee isn't something you get every day."

Declan chuckled, the earlier tension dissipating.

However, deep down, the incident served as another reminder of the complexity of his feelings.

While their bond was built on friendship, moments like these blurred the lines, making him wonder if they were, perhaps, destined for more.

...

Declan almost choked on his coffee as Amara's playful words reached his ears.

Setting his cup down, he eyed her with mock severity. "Is that a hypothetical or are you asking for future reference?"

Amara tilted her head, feigning innocence with her fluttering eyelashes.

"Just a harmless question, Dec. But now that you mention it, both. Let's start with the hypothetical."

Declan ran a hand through his raven-black hair, buying himself a few seconds.

He exhaled slowly, choosing his words carefully.

"As your hypothetical boyfriend," he began, his voice deliberately steady,

"I'd trust you. Trust is the foundation of any relationship. But..." He paused, his piercing blue eyes locking onto hers,

"... I'd also make sure the other guy knew you were taken. Not by being aggressive, but by simply being present, letting our bond speak for itself."

Amara's eyes twinkled with mischief. "And for future reference?"

He leaned in closer, their faces just inches apart. The cafe and its buzz faded into the background.

"For future reference," he whispered, "I'd hope I wouldn't have to do anything. Because by then, he'd already know he didn't stand a chance."

Amara chuckled, leaning back. "Quite confident, aren't we?"

Declan shrugged, a lopsided grin forming. "Just stating the obvious."

A comfortable silence settled between them. The 'what ifs' hung heavily in the air, a tantalizing dance of possibilities.

Amara, ever the spontaneous spirit, decided to shift the conversation.

"Speaking of boyfriends, have you thought about dating someone? It's been a while since you brought anyone home."

Declan sighed, feeling a weight on his chest.

"Honestly, Amara, between work and spending time with you, I haven't really felt the need. And maybe..." he hesitated, searching her face,

"Maybe I've been looking for something... or someone... that's been right in front of me all along."

She met his gaze, her expressive green eyes searching his face for hidden meanings. "Dec..."

He quickly interjected, "It's fine, Mara. Let's not complicate things. Some questions are best left unanswered."

But as the morning wore on and they went about their day, a seed of curiosity had been planted in Amara's mind.

She found herself revisiting their conversation, analyzing Declan's words, and wondering about the blurred lines of their relationship.

Maybe, just maybe, there was more to explore. And maybe, it was time to be brave.

...

POV: Declan Blackwood

The sunlight filtering through the windows of the cafe painted the room in a gentle hue.

My fingers tapped a rhythmic pattern on the table, my usual calm demeanor disrupted by Amara's playful question.

"What would you do if you were my boyfriend and another man bought coffee for me?"

She said it with that teasing lilt, but beneath the surface, I could sense a depth, a genuine curiosity.

Amara's question was a double-edged sword.

Answering felt like crossing into territory we'd always danced around, yet avoiding it felt cowardly.

My heart raced, but I took a moment, centering my thoughts.

"As your hypothetical boyfriend," I began, careful to gauge her reaction,

"I'd trust you. Trust is the foundation of any relationship. But..." I found myself inching closer, our faces almost touching. The background murmur of the cafe faded. All I could see were her luminous green eyes.

"For future reference," I whispered, my voice hoarse, "I'd hope I wouldn't have to do anything. Because by then, he'd already know he didn't stand a chance."

Amara's laughter was light and airy, like the chimes on our balcony. But there was a hint of something else there, a tinge of contemplation.

When she mentioned my own dating life, or lack thereof, I felt cornered.

How could I explain to her that every date I'd been on, every fleeting connection, felt colorless compared to the tapestry of emotions I felt with her?

"Maybe I've been looking for something... or someone... that's been right in front of me all along." I admitted, albeit hesitantly.

Seeing her reaction, the swirl of emotions in her eyes, I panicked.

"It's fine, Mara. Let's not complicate things."

I wanted to retreat, to bury my feelings, and preserve our bond.

As the day wore on, every stolen glance, and every casual touch was amplified.

The weight of our conversation pressed on me, and the familiar contours of our relationship felt different as if we were both treading on new ground.

Walking back to our apartment, the city lights began to illuminate the streets, casting long shadows.

I wanted to reach out and hold her hand, to reassure her – and maybe more so myself – that no matter where our feelings might take us, our foundation, our years of trust and memories, would remain unchanged.

Inside, I retreated to my studio, losing myself in sketches and designs.

The strokes on the paper reflected my tumultuous feelings.

Every curve, every line, was imbued with the weight of our unspoken words.

When Amara knocked gently on the door and entered, her silhouette framed by the warm light of the hallway, I realized this was the moment.

No more dancing around feelings. It was time to face them, to face her.

She sat beside me, her fingers brushing mine.

"Dec," she began, her voice soft and hesitant, "about earlier..."

I looked up, meeting her gaze. Whatever came next, we were in it together.