Page 190 of While You Were Trending

She pulls off her wig too, unzips her dress, and blows out a breath. “I need to quit eating so much bread or let these seams out.”

“Lucky your boobs still fit,” Zander says in his normal voice. “Ginny, help this man take his makeup off. He’s just like our mother. Scrubs too hard, and then his face swells for days.”

Declan pulls off his dress—a fluffy oversize yellow dress that looks like it came off the set of an eighties horror movie about murdered prom queens—leaving him in nothing but his slacks and shoes.

I catch myself biting my lip while I eye the broad expanse of his chest, the tight muscles in his arms, the bed of chest hair and his flat copper nipples, and try as I might to order myself to look away while we have an audience, I don’t want to.

I never want to.

His body is just—it’s glorious.

Every inch of it.

Including my favorite inches.

“Oh my goddess, have some respect for the wardrobe.” Cherry grabs the dress Declan’s discarded, then pets it. “I’mso sorry you had to touch that hairy beast, my darling. The sacrifices you make to entertain an audience.”

I finally make myself look away from Declan’s chest to Cherry, who’s also pulled off her dress. “Did you plan this?” I ask.

“We never plan anything,” Peppermint says, though she’s using a much, much deeper voice now.

Back into being Lou, Zander’s best friend since kindergarten.

“We’ve had this dress traveling with us for ten years, and this is the first time we’ve gotten to use it,” Zander says.

Declan rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “Only because you put me in hot pink and then neon green first.”

“You’ve done this before?” I ask him.

“Not since we hit the big time,” Zander answers for him. “What was that bar we were at the first time he did it, Lou?”

“Bumblebee Barracuda,” Peppermint—Lou—supplies.

“Three people showed up, and Declan was two of them,” Zander says.

“He hasn’t gotten any better at improv,” Lou says.

“Worse, if you ask me,” Zander replies. “Ginny, he’s taking his makeup off himself. For the love of goddess, stop him, please. Or don’t, and send me pictures tomorrow.”

I look at Declan again, who’s still crinkly eyed and clearly amused.

Steady and confident in who he is and what he believes in any situation.

Unafraid of what people will say when pictures and videos leak.

And they will.

It’s inevitable.

And he’s smiling at me, holding out a makeup removal cloth.

My legs are unsteady as I sink onto the stool beside him.

Fingers too.

I know what I’m feeling.

I’ve felt it before, and I’ll undoubtedly feel it again.