by Tempest Phan
It was already starting to get dark when a soft misty sprinkle began to fall. I tipped my head back to feel the cool drops on my face. Dame was sitting next to me, smoking a joint. I looked at him and scrunched up my nose. He didn’t smoke weed often, but when he did, I would pretend to give him shit for it.
“What, do you like this?” he smiled at me, taking another hit, which he proceeded to blow in my face.
“Dame! You fucker!” I said, half coughing.
“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” he replied, laughing, and clearly not sorry at all. I pretended to frown at him. He laughed again, took another long, deep drag, before getting up and walking toward the water to throw the remainder into the lake. He sauntered back, hands in his pockets, smiling at me. I smiled back. He plopped down next to me and grabbed me to pull me in close, wrapping me in his arms as we sat on the grass. We stayed there for several minutes, not saying a word.
Somewhere in the distance, frogs and crickets added a symphony of sounds to the rustling and sighing of the leaves from the branches swaying above us.
“Let’s dance in the rain,” he said against my ear suddenly.
I started to laugh. “You’re so weird! Are you high. Oh my God, you’re so high!”
“Perhaps,” he smiled against me. “Come,” he whispered again.
I chewed on my lip and started giggling uncontrollably. “Oh Dame, you’re being crazy. It’s dark! I’ll fall!”
“O ye of little faith,” he said softly as he tugged me to my feet. And then, softly against my ear, “I would never let you fall.” My heart skipped a beat as it recognized the truth in his words.
He twirled me around and around as the rain began to fall against us, plastering his dark hair around his face, soaking his white T-shirt through.
“See, isn’t this fun?” he whispered as he drew me against him and we swayed to some imaginary melody that only the two of us could hear.
He broke the silence to sing softly, “Let’s dance just you and I, under this darkened sky . . . the world will have to wait . . .”
The smell of the crisp damp grass, the vibrant water sloshing nearby, the sharp earthiness of the woods around us. And Damien. Sandalwood and smoke and grass. His scent mingled with the rain and the spark in my heart as the day turned to dusk. As long as I live, I’ll never forget how it felt, will never forget his strong arms around me as he led me through his dance, singing softly against my ear, making me want things I didn’t quite know what to do with yet.
“Let’s jump in the lake,” he said suddenly.
“What is up with you tonight? You’re being crazy! We’re going to freeze our butts off!”
But he was already peeling his jeans off, pulling his wet shirt over his head, running toward the water.
“Come on wimp!” he called out to me as he jumped into what promised to be frigid waters.
I had goosebumps, perhaps from the cool night breeze, perhaps from something else, but I was no wimp. I stripped to my panties and camisole and ran into the water, waist deep.
“Oh God! It’s cold!” I sputtered, wrapping my arms around myself. Dame threw water at me, laughing.
“Fucker! Stop!” And he kept on laughing before taking pity on me and my shivering body and wading over to wrap me in his warm, muscular arms.
“Better, wimp?” He laughed, nuzzling my crown.
Most definitely better, I thought. I pressed tightly against him, my ear close to his heart. I could feel the light wispiness of the sprinkling of hair on his chest. I breathed him in, my Damien. Yes, my Damien, although he wasn’t truly mine. I glanced up. He was bathed in moonlight, pale beams of light glancing off his sharp cheekbones, highlighting the nearly healed white line running across his right cheek, the scar that bore testament to his devotion to me. The moon’s silver fingers painted his face softly, reaching down to caress his body, making him seem otherworldly and so painfully beautiful. What was happening to me? My heart began to race. Perhaps being nearly naked in his arms wasn’t the smartest thing to do, our friendship notwithstanding.
But I wanted him. Oh how I wanted him. As Damien held me trembling in his arms, I realized in that instant that I would gladly give it all to him, and more. Under this silver moon, I would give him everything.
“You ok?” he whispered as a cloud passed by, blocking the moonlight, bringing with it an unrelenting darkness.
Ok? No, no I’m not ok.
I glanced back up. The cloud had moved on, and the light suddenly hit his chest. For the first time, I saw this small tattoo, an ornate, almost gothic B over his heart, so inconspicuous amid the mass of ink covering the left side of his body. I traced it with my fingers and felt him shiver, whether it was from the cold, I couldn’t be certain. But then again, I knew that my Damien was never cold.
I looked up at him and saw fire ravaging his blue eyes.
“B?” I asked, but I didn’t need to. I already knew the answer.
“For you.” He paused, and then, softly, so softly I thought I might have imagined it, “I love you, Bella mine. Always have. Always will.”
My heart lurched inside my chest as I grasped what he was saying, those words I’d longed for him to whisper to me in the dark loneliness of my nights.
I reached up and touched his pale cheek, my fingers delicately tracing each jut, peak, valley on his beloved face, before stopping on his newly formed scar. I ran my fingers ever so gently along its jagged edges. He’d put himself in harm’s way without hesitation. My eyes began to mist over, and I looked up, my heart, I knew, completely on display in their reflections.
He hesitated for a second, before lowering his head. His lips found mine. It was a soft, gentle kiss, until suddenly it wasn’t. His mouth became more exacting, plunging into the depths of mine, seeking, claiming, the slick metal of his spider bites burning like fire against my lips. His hands skimmed down my body, caressing me with a devastating urgency that almost terrified me, before finally picking me up and holding me against him, as if to engulf my body in his, as if to brand me as his. I wrapped my legs around his waist, felt the hard, demanding ridge pressing against me, making me ache inside with an unfulfilled need that had only recently been awakened.
But perhaps it was what I’d been wanting all along.
Craving more, I started to grind against him until he groaned deep in his throat and crushed me even more tightly to him. His great big hands were on my butt, holding me ever so close. Through the thin cotton of my undergarments, I could feel their heat searing me. I rocked my hips against his as he growled and pulled me in closer, dragging me up and down over his hard length, the friction a delicious torture, making me crave more, more, more. I moaned as he continued to devour my mouth, his teeth grazing my lips before his tongue dipped in to dance with mine.
I felt one hand push through the side of my panties until it touched my naked skin. Ever so roughly, he caressed my butt. Lower, lower his hand dipped until it found my most secret of places, already dripping with want for him. He stroked me gently, making me gasp and whimper against his lips. And then he plunged a finger in. I broke the kiss and threw my head back, a loud moan escaping my lips.
“Oh Dame, Dame, Dame. My Damien James. Please, please, please. Make love to me . . .” I didn’t even recognize my own voice.
Hearing me must have snapped him out of it because he shuddered against me and hissed, “Fuck, Bella. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” as he began pulling away.
I slid down the length of his body.
“What are we doing?” he choked out, dragging his hands though this hair before squeezing and shaking his head.
“Don’t you want me?” I rasped, ashamed and confused, still burning with need for him. He looked at me for what felt like an eternity before picking me up and cradling me in his arms and wading his way out.
Once on the grass, he drew me closer to him and, without looking at me, he whispered in a dark and shattered voice, “I can’t, baby girl. I’m so sorry. I can’t.”
&nbs
p; “I don’t understand.” Tears stung my eyes. Had I misread the situation? Had I imagined his hard inches against me?
He sucked in a breath and said, “We’re going to catch a cold. Better dry off.” He tossed me my shirt, which I wiped all over my torso and legs. “Here, put this on,” he said, handing me his hoodie, which he’d discarded earlier.
“What about you?”
“You need it more than I do.”
With a modesty that seemed out of place given the fact that only minutes earlier I had been grinding against him, I turned my back to him before taking off my wet cami, and threw his hoodie on. It smelled of him, of sandalwood and smoke. I immediately felt so safe. I took off my wet panties and slid my shorts on. I looked at him. He’d put on his wet shirt and jeans.
I was still shivering.
“Let’s head back to the car,” he said. And so we walked back to his Chevy. He turned the heat on full blast while I huddled against him.
Tonight, we’d crossed the line we’d been gingerly toeing all year. No matter what happened next, nothing could ever be the same again, not after this. I broached the subject again. “You said you loved me . . . Why don’t you want this? Want me?” I asked against his chest.
He took a deep breath before looking down and tilting my head up with a gentle index finger, his thumb almost running over my lower lip, before he paused and dropped his hand. He leaned back against the headrest, his eyes tightly shut, his face even paler under the moonlight.
“I love you, Bella. There is no one and nothing I love more in the world. Don’t ever doubt that.”
“Then why?” I whispered.
He reopened his eyes.
“I love you, but it can never be in that way. You’re like a sister to me so this, this can’t ever happen. I care too much about you. Your friendship means everything to me. I can’t risk it . . .”
“I don’t understand what you mean. We risk nothing, Dame.”
“You risk everything. You deserve someone from your world. Your dad is right. My mom is right.”
I nearly screamed in frustration, running my hands over my face. “I don’t give a fuck what they say.” And more softly, broken by the fact that he couldn’t, wouldn’t see. “You are my world, Dame. My whole world.”
“You say that now, but one day, you’ll come to regret it. Not one second went by without my mom berating my dad for not living up to her expectations. I couldn’t live with myself if that were you and me. And sometimes, Bella, sometimes I get so lost. I can’t subject you to that. You’d come to hate me and I couldn’t bear it.”
“That’s bull, Dame. I’d never blame anything on you. It would always be my choice. And I choose you. You, Damien James Mortensen. My Damien James.”
He shook his head over and over, trying to deny everything.
“Please, Bella. Don’t ask me anymore. Please.”
I couldn’t stop the tears that were now pouring down my face, the feeling of rejection, on the same night where he’d finally admitted his love for me . . . It was all too much to bear.
He reached out to draw me into his arms but I pushed him away.
“Don’t you dare,” I cried through my tears. “How can you on one hand say you love me, and then reject me like this.”
“Your father can’t stand me. And I see why. I understand. We can’t take this further, not when you have the whole damn world at your feet, not when you have everything ahead of you.” He placed his hand softly on my cheek.
I shook my head and pushed his hand away. “You’re breaking my heart . . .” And the tears kept falling.
“Baby—”
“Don’t. Stop. Stop with the holding and the mixed messages. Stop trying to hold my heart while you also break it. If you’re going to break it, just fucking break it.” I wiped my hand across my eyes. “Please take me home.”
“Bella . . .” he began while reaching out for me.
“Take me home! I can’t. I need to go!” I hated that I sounded slightly hysterical to my own ears.
He looked devastated but nodded and turned on the engine. We drove in silence to my house. He parked in front of the wrought iron gates and leaned over to hug me goodbye, but I pushed him away.
“Not right now,” I said, avoiding eye contact. I walked back to the house and opened the door. I did not turn to wave at him as he drove off.
I laid on my bed, completely disgusted with myself. The worst part was that in spite of this, in spite of his rejection, it didn’t matter. I still loved him, perhaps more than ever. It was wrong to love someone who didn’t fucking want to love me back, but there was no one out there with whom I felt safer, more cherished, more understood. The fact that he didn’t want this did nothing to squelch my feelings for him. Yes, it was disgusting, this unrequited feeling. But it wasn’t just physical. I loved him, thoroughly and deeply. A love that made me want to scream whenever I thought anyone might be hurting him, when I thought of him battling his demons alone. A love that made me want to protect him just as he’d always protected me.
My phone vibrated, and without looking, I knew it was him texting me. I ignored it. It vibrated again. I looked down.
DAMIEN:
I’m so sorry. Just let me know that you’re ok.
He could have distanced himself from me this past year, could have never come back into my life. Could have ignored me. Instead, he drew me closer and made me fall desperately for him, made me love him so much I thought I’d choke on the pain and bile and self-disgust.
ME:
Leave me alone.
And I turned my phone off.
Damien
The sun shone through the dingy blinds in my room, through the haze in my mind. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath. I was still here. It had been a terrible, painful, sleepless night, but no worse than the last attack I’d had. Except this time, there hadn’t been Bella to take me in her arms and soothe away my waking nightmares.
Bella . . . Her name on my lips felt like a prayer. Slowly, images from last night began to play in my mind. Her soft skin against mine, the hardness of her nipples as she shuddered against me, the feel of her, her whispers, her scent, her moans. I let out a groan. Fuck, what had taken over me? Why had I initiated what I’d sworn I’d never, ever let happen? I shouldn’t have had that second joint. It had nearly melted down all of my defenses. And now I’d succeeded in pushing her away. Perhaps, it was best to leave it this way. I rubbed the heels of my palms against my eyes.
My phone rang. I looked down, not recognizing the number. I picked up anyways.
“Mortensen.” It wasn’t a question. I recognized the dry, authoritative voice on the other end immediately.
“Mortensen. This is Michael Davenport.”
“Mr. Davenport.”
“Listen, boy. You will stay away from my daughter, do you hear me? You will stop . . .” I heard the gritting of teeth, before he spat out, “You will stop sleeping with her.”
“With all due respect, sir, we aren’t sleeping together.”
Thank fuck I could still say this with my integrity intact.
“Call it what you will. But if I catch you hanging around her again, you will regret it.”
Silence. What could I say to that?
“Do you hear me? Stay away from her. Stay away and perhaps the Huntings won’t press charges for the mess you made of their son.”
Blackmail. I laughed without humor. Of course this would be how he’d play this.
Finally, I responded, “Like I said. We aren’t doing anything wrong,” and hung up. I looked down at my phone. For all we knew, this whole conversation was moot. She’d probably already written me out of her life anyways.
Leave me alone.
I guess she didn’t need me after all.
I willed myself out of bed and to the bathroom. I could hear the TV in the living room. My mom was already up and watching her crime series.
I walked into the shower, closing my eyes, trying to drown out the
images in my head, her big hazel eyes filled with tears as she pleaded with me to give her what I knew I couldn’t give right now. I slammed my fist against the hard tiles of the shower wall before turning the water off and stepping out.
I wiped the steam off the mirror and stared at my reflection. I looked like death warmed over, with bloodshot eyes rimmed in the red aftermath of a sleepless night. I was pale, paler than usual, except for the faint morning stubble. I wasn’t going to bother shaving.
I headed back to my room to finish dressing. I grabbed my bag and quickly headed out the door. She hadn’t texted me since last night.
I drove by our pick up spot, but neither she nor her car were to be seen. She was still upset at me. As she should be. I drove to school.
As I went up the steps, everyone was looking at me, pointing, whispering. Word spread fast, I supposed. As I headed to my locker, the principal marched toward me.
“Damien.”
I turned and stared at him as he motioned to me.
“Come with me, son.”
I closed my locker and followed him. As he escorted me to his office, Bella rushed toward us, concern evident in the deep furrows between her brows.
“Dame?”
I just smiled at her.
“There is nothing to see here, Mira. Go to class,” the principal said as we walked past her. She stood there and kept looking as we disappeared into the main office. There, by the front desk, stood two uniformed police officers.
“Damien Mortensen?”
I nodded.
As the two came closer to me, one took out a pair of handcuffs and said, “Damien Mortensen: you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the court . . .” and on and on they droned. This was laughable. In fact, I began to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all. So they had decided to press charges, after all. As the cops led me past the students gawking at me in the hallway, past the teachers with their noses against their glass classroom doors, and past my Mirabella who gasped at the sight and began to follow us, I had to hand it to Davenport, the Huntings, all of them. Their kind didn’t play to lose.