by Layla Hagen
He laughs. "So you are looking. You are a bad girl, Dani. You like what you see?" he asks cockily.
"You're not bad," I mumble.
He frowns as he lowers himself into the water, and I sigh with relief as more and more of his body sinks in until only his shoulders are visible. "Compared to who?"
"What?"
"You said I'm not bad. Compared to who? Who have you seen naked?"
"No one. Turn around, so I can take off my clothes." He starts swimming and I hurry to undress and get in the water. It's freezing. Trying very hard not to think of how Damon and I are both naked, I swim for fifteen minutes, then stop, out of breath.
"You're good," Damon calls. I startle, covering my boobs and lower lady parts. "Any chance I'll get permission to look at you?"
"No," I say in panic. I turn to swim again, but Damon grabs my arm. Warmth seizes me low in my body. "I can't touch the bottom; I need my arms to keep myself afloat."
"I’ll keep you afloat." He turns me around, sliding one hand along my thigh, pulling it up around his waist, all the while staring intensely at me as if waiting for me to pull back or say no. He draws in a sharp breath as I hitch my other leg around his waist, and then I feel his hands on my ass. My. Ass.
"You have such a sweet little ass." His voice comes out in a growl. I cover my breasts with one hand, but I know it's too late; he saw them already. He moves his hands to my back.
"I don't remember giving you permission to look at me." I’m aware that despite my embarrassment, I'm not doing anything to move away.
"I'm not asking for permission anymore. I'll ask for forgiveness later. I suggest you don't move lower, though. Or you'll see just how excited I am about this."
"What do you mean? Oh," I say, squirming in shame as I realize. "I thought...um...isn't cold water supposed to be an antidote to...um...erections?"
"Cold water stands no chance against a hot, naked girl in my arms."
"I'm not hot," I say before I can stop myself. He blinks. "Well, I'm not. I have no boobs or hips." I bite my tongue. Why did I just tell him this? Nothing screams turn-off like a girl with insecurities. I remember reading this in one of Mom's magazines.
"I’ll call you out on that." His hands slide from my back to my hips. "You have beautiful hips. And breasts," he says. I flush, wondering whether he would touch my breasts, too, if I weren't covering them. "I took a good look at them. And if you doubt me, you only have to slide a little lower. You are beautiful, Dani. Don't you dare think anything less of yourself." I nod then run my hand over his tattooed arm. I don't understand the symbols, but they look pretty.
"I like your tattoo. What does it mean?"
"It's made of symbols for strength in several cultures."
We're very close. So close I can gauge my reflection in the drops of water on his cheeks.
"You're cold. Let's get out," he says.
Getting out makes me feel even colder. I dry myself with towels then get dressed, my teeth clattering. Damon, already fully dressed, also looks cold. I sit on a dry towel on the ground, rubbing my arms to warm myself up.
"You'll be warm in a minute," he says, sitting just behind me, wrapping me tightly in his arms. Maybe because we were naked earlier, this feels very intimate.
"You feeling better?" I ask.
"Yes. Much better. Thank you for coming here with me today."
"You seemed to need it desperately."
"It's like since I moved here, I can't breathe. Except when I’m with you."
I melt in his arms, and he buries his face in my neck. First, I feel his breath at the base of my neck, and then his lips. He moves them gently on my skin. The tension building inside me is anything but gentle. It makes me want to dig my fingers into the ground...or his skin, pulling his lips even closer to me.
"Do you like this?" he murmurs.
"Yes," I whisper.
"So do I."
I stay in his arms as he continues to plant little kisses on my neck. Shuddering, I try not to acknowledge the heat between my legs, but I fail. It gets so unbearable, I don't know what to do with myself. Finally, he unhitches his lips, and I can think straight again. My body doesn't recover, though; the slight tremors continue, and he's trembling, too.
"I lied to you earlier, Dani."
"About what?"
"I don't want to be your friend. I can't be."
"Oh." I duck my chin, disappointment washing through me.
"If I were your friend, I wouldn't fantasize about your lips, kissing you and doing a whole lot of other non-friendly things," he says. My breath catches, my body liquefying in his arms. "Do you agree?" Damon asks. I lick my lips, thinking hard of what would be an appropriate reaction. When nothing comes to mind, I give a quick nod. His fingers trail up under my chin, caressing me, and then slowly turning my head to him. He moves a notch further to my side until we can look at each other.
"First time for everything, right?" I ask, swallowing hard.
A rueful smile plays on Damon's lips. "Right," he answers. I close my eyes, every nerve in my body simmering with anticipation. His lips settle onto mine, warm and soft and full. Ever so slowly, his tongue pushes my lips open, sliding inside my mouth. When our tongues touch, my veins fill with liquid fire, burning with an excruciating intensity. Damon coaxes my tongue with his—an invitation to a dance that is unknown to me, but one I am eager to discover and learn. I barely move my tongue in the beginning, afraid I might push his out involuntarily. Eventually, I pick up Damon's rhythm, allowing him to guide me. He cradles the back of my head with one hand, making me whimper with emotion as he deepens the kiss. It's so wonderfully delicious; I forget to breathe. When we break off, we are both gasping for air.
"Dani," he whispers hoarsely. I tug with both hands at his jacket, beckoning him to kiss me again. His tongue trespasses my mouth again without hesitation. Desperation grips both of us. I feel it in the way his hand shoots up, entangling in my hair. I feel it in the way my legs yearn to hitch around his waist again, like in the water. The unspoken need crackles between us and Damon lifts me off the floor, pulling me into his lap. When we stop the kiss this time around, we laugh, our foreheads pressed together.
"I've been dying to do this since we were in the water. You taste even better than I imagined," he says.
"Why didn't you kiss me in the water?"
"We were both naked. It was too dangerous."
"And this is safe?" I smile, pointing to our telling position.
"This is perfect." He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear then wraps his arms tightly around me. "You’re cold," he adds, taking off his jacket and putting it around my shoulders. Something about his gesture tugs at my heartstrings. A conflicted look grips his features.
"What's wrong?"
"Dani, I don't want to make any false promises. I'm no good for you." The timing of his confession isn't lost on me. Right after our first kiss. I take the cue all right: I should have no false hopes, harbor no romantic dreams.
"I disagree," I say in a trembling voice, fixing my eyes on the top button of his shirt.
"I don't have anything to offer to you, any set future. Any future at all, actually. I assume you have big plans, and I don't want to stand in your way. You'll go to college. I don’t plan to. The minute we graduate, I'll go as far from California as possible." I remain quiet, feeling my eyes burn, praying I won't tear up. "I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't."
Cupping my cheeks with both hands, he utters words that fill me with hope like nothing else could. "I'll do my best. You mean more to me than anything else in my life right now."
Chapter Twelve: Dani
I spend Friday afternoon daydreaming and texting Hazel every detail about the kiss. Normally, I would have waited until Saturday morning to tell her about it, during our weekly yoga class, but since she won't be back from her trip until Monday, texting will have to do. She'd kill me if I kept this to myself for so long.
On Saturday, I end up do
ing two yoga classes and only arrive home mid-afternoon. Of course, no one is home except the cook. She heats me up food, and I eat a very early dinner in the kitchen with her. She tells me my parents are in San Francisco, attending a charity gala. They didn't mention it to me at all, but I've long since given up trying to keep up with their social commitments. I decide to read after dinner, but find myself daydreaming about Damon again. I run my fingers over my lips, remembering how it felt when he kissed me. It was so surreal; I’m almost afraid I imagined it. He makes me pulse with life. When he looks at me, it's like he can see right through me. The fact that I haven't heard from him since yesterday is starting to worry me. I drag myself to the wall of books in my bedroom, trying to decide what to read. My phone buzzes with an incoming message. My stomach jolts. The sender: Damon.
"What are you doing?"
"Reading," I text back fast.
One second later: "Any plans for tonight?"
My stomach jolts stronger than before. "Other than more reading? No."
"Want to go out?"
I read the words over and over again, excitement dusting all over my skin. "Is it a date?" I want to type more, but I see the little dots indicating he is writing, as well. I wait, my heart hammering.
"You'll be the judge of that."
My stomach sinks. "Is this about the fact that you're not good for me?"
"It's exactly about that."
"I have no reason to believe you."
"I'll give you one."
After a long pause, the little dots indicating he's writing appear again. "Can I pick you up at eight?"
"Yes. What's the dress code?"
"Casual."
***
I stare at my closet for about thirty minutes, making a mental inventory of everything I own before I accept that I have no appropriate item for tonight. I have jeans, hoodies, t-shirts with my favorite bands, but I have nothing to wear on a date. God...everything about Damon is too much. I drag my hands down my face. I like being near him too much, laughing and talking to him. I like the way his green eyes bore into mine, making my skin tingle with heat. If he were to disappear from the face of the earth tomorrow, I'd be devastated. It's a strong word, but it feels like the right one. That's when I realize how much trouble I’m in.
What's a girl to do when her closet fails her? The answer for most girls my age would probably be shopping. But since it was my nerdtastic taste in clothes that led to my poorly stocked closet in the first place, that's not a smart move.
I have a much simpler solution: breaking into Mom's closet. I've only been in it a few times before, but it's the size of my bedroom. I’ll find something appropriate. Thankfully, Mom doesn't like to own up to her age, so most of her clothes look young. I hear my parents' car pull in and then a screaming match blowing up downstairs. When I was young, I used to play a movie at maximum volume when they started fighting, but now I can block their voices out all by myself. I'll just have to be extra careful when I leave so they don't see me.
I end up with a nude-colored dress with straps. It's not extremely short, but it's tight. The exaggerated cleavage makes me blush. I feel naked in it, so it must be right for a date. I put on some peep-toe sandals and a light jacket and sneak out. Not the easiest task, because both Mom and Dad are downstairs. I told them I'd go over to Hazel's tonight, which is a risky move since she isn't in the country. If they see my clothes, I'm in trouble. Mom pushes me to dress differently, but I have a hunch she won't appreciate my stolen outfit. Once I get past the front door, my muscles loosen a notch. I only allow myself to take a deep breath after passing our humongous garden and the front gate. The relaxing moment only lasts a few seconds as the realization that I'll be meeting Damon in about two minutes kicks in. I managed to stave off the nerves while I was preparing, but now as I approach our meeting place, all the jitters come back with a vengeance. When I reach the junction where Damon is supposed to meet me, he's not here. This doesn't help the jitters in the slightest. I pace on the pavement, chewing the inside of my cheek, rubbing my sweaty palms on my flimsy dress. Maybe he's changed his mind. A motorcycle roars from the distance, approaching with a mind-bending speed. I shake my head. I'll never get their appeal. For me, they are nothing more than death on two wheels.
When the motorcycle stops in front of me, I am speechless.
When Damon descends from it, I catch my breath. Removing his helmet, he just stares at me, his lips parted, his bright green eyes wider than I've ever seen them as they travel over my body.
"You have a motorcycle?" I ask at the same time he exclaims, "What are you wearing?"
I become ten times more self-conscious than I already was, trying to cover myself up. "You don't like it?" I murmur, looking away.
"It's… Well, you...I didn't think you owned something like that."
"I could say the same about you," I say, gesturing at the motorcycle.
"Really, is it that surprising? I have a bad attitude, tattoos, and hate everyone in California except you. Is a bike that much of a surprise?"
I grin. "I guess not."
"But nothing about your Linkin Park t-shirts led me to believe you might own something that shows your boobs and ass at the same time. You usually hide both."
My cheeks are on fire. "It's not my dress," I mumble. "It's Mom's." She looks better in it.
"Dani, don't misinterpret what I'm about to say, okay?" Damon takes a few steps, stopping in front of me. He puts his hands on my shoulders. "You look stunning. But you can't come with me dressed like this."
"Why not?" I challenge. "It's...casual."
"Jeans are casual. This is hot. I would never object to that, but where we're going tonight...it's not a good idea. And you'll freeze on the bike. Go change. I'll wait for you here."
"I can't go back. My parents will see me."
A smile crosses his lips. "You snuck out? They don't know you're out?"
"They think I'm at Hazel's. I can't make it inside without them seeing me."
"Dani..." His eyes are pleading.
"We should go. We'll be late."
He frowns then unzips his black leather jacket.
"What are you doing?" I ask suspiciously.
"Making sure you won’t get sick." He holds his jacket, motioning for me to put it on.
"But then you'll get sick."
"No, I won't. Come on, no argument."
Obediently, I let him put the jacket on me and zip it up. He then proceeds to put the second helmet he has with him on my head. I feel like a small child, but I relish being taken care of. He shows me how to mount the bike. He sits first, and then I do, right behind him.
"Hold on to me tight, okay?"
I sling my arms around him, my fingers resting on his chest. I can feel his rippled muscles under my fingers. Moving closer to him, my thighs come to rest next to his. My dress slides up my thighs, revealing bare skin. Damon's hands, which were hovering a few inches in the air, probably preparing to make sure my thighs are sitting right, freeze in mid-air. I quickly readjust my dress, but there seems to be a sudden something looming in the air. It fills the few inches of space between my chest and Damon's back. It makes the skin on my thighs tingle.
I bury myself in Damon's jacket. It smells of aftershave and him. The smell invades all my senses, luring me toward unchartered sensations. The tingle on my thighs transforms to heat. As Damon revs the engine and I hold tighter to him, I find the courage to say something I never would have if we were face to face. "So I look stunning, huh?"
He chuckles. "Oh, you do. That's not good, seeing where we're going, but I'll take care of you."
I keep my eyes shut the entire time we're on the road. I'm freezing, but smiling. I still think the bike is a death machine on two wheels, but I find a redeeming point: I get to be closer to Damon than I ever hoped. As I cling to him for dear life, I tune out the sound of the wheels speeding and the wind blowing through my flimsy dress, pondering something he said earlier. I hate everyone in Californi
a except you. This fills me with both elation and sadness. I resolve to find a way for him to feel happier here. Living in hate is awful. Hating others eventually leads to one hating life itself. Look at my parents. Of course, my parents only hate each other, but they do so with a passion that has turned them both to stone.
When the bike stops, I finally open my eyes. Damon helps me off, and I take in our surroundings. I've never been here before. There are only a few large buildings that resemble warehouses. The first rows of houses are visible in the distance...about ten miles away. Unease overwhelms me. I take off my helmet and Damon's jacket and hand them both to him. I realize he's watching me. Perhaps he's done so for a while. A slight frown crosses his features.
"Why have we come here, Damon?"
"So I can show you why you should stay away from me." He runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "That was my intention, but now I think it was a horrible idea to bring you here. You know what," he continues, preparing to put his jacket on me again, "I'll drive you to a cafe in the neighborhood over there. It looks safe. I'll pick you up after it's over."
I take a step back. "No. I'm not a chicken."
"It's not about that, Dani. It's about the—”
I never find out what it is about. A man looking a few years older than Damon interrupts us. He has light hair that falls to his shoulders and tired, blue eyes. He must have come from behind the nearest warehouse.
"Damon, it's good you got here early. Everyone is already—” The man stops dead in his steps when he sees me, his eyebrows furrowing.
"She's with me, Alex." Damon's tone startles me. It's strong. Authoritative. I've never heard him speak like this. Even though they’re the same height, and even have a similar build, the man takes a giant step back.
"You'd better hurry inside. The crowd is restless already."
The crowd?
Damon looks at me, and before he can bring up taking me somewhere else again, I say, "Let’s go."