Lyla's POV:
Dinner arrived forty minutes later. The delivery guy had barely knocked before Declan was at the door, paying and carrying everything inside like it weighed nothing. Three large pizza boxes. The smell of melted cheese, pepperoni, and warm tomato sauce filled the entire kitchen and made my stomach rumble even though I had told myself I wasn’t that hungry.
I stared at the stack. “How many people are you feeding with all this?”
Declan set the boxes down on the counter and opened the first one with a satisfied grin. “Me.”
“That’s disgusting,” I said, shaking my head.
“Judgmental,” he shot back, already pulling out a slice.
“You’re one person, Declan.”
“I’m an athlete.” He folded the slice in half and took a huge bite.
“You’re an injured athlete,” I replied without thinking.
