Damaged

by Ward, H. M.

  When he mentions my family, I feel my hackles raise. It’s a common enough question, so I try to sound normal. “Yeah, of course. Whose family wouldn’t want them to go to college? And this school’s great.” I’m distracted. I lie. My stupid family doesn’t even know where I am.

  Dusty leans in close to me. He takes a curl between his fingers. I glance at him and twist so the curl drops. “You look so hot tonight.” My eyes instantly avert their gaze. Even though I’m no longer looking at him, I can feel Dusty’s eyes on my skin. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. He leans in toward me and places his hand on my knee, slowly. Very slowly. I won’t react. I can do this. I can. It’s a normal touch.

  It’s normal. I want to be normal. I want it so badly, but my eyes sting. My pulse is pounding like someone is chasing me with an axe. I smile at him again, forcing myself to stay put. Dusty takes my smile the wrong way. His hand slips under the hem of my dress and halfway up my thigh—skin to skin—and squeezes. He grabs me and my world shifts. I’m here, but my mind is lost in the past, reliving memories that I want to forget.

  My muscles react without my consent. Shooting out of my seat, I jump up, banging into the table, shaking all the silverware. It makes a loud noise. I hold out my hands, ready to make up some excuse, when I whirl around and slam into a waiter. He’s holding a tray of food—our food—high over his head. When I slap into him, the tray topples to the side. Every entrée slips to the side in slow motion, and slides off the side of the tray. There’s a loud crash when the plates hit the floor.

  For a second, I stand there paralyzed. Dusty gives me a what the hell look. Millie and Brent follow suit. I feel their stares and can’t explain. They don’t know. My mouth dangles open, but I don’t know what to say.

  I bolt. Before the night can get any worse, before I can make a bigger an ass out of myself, I leave. I walk swiftly toward the exit, ready to scream or cry—maybe both. What the hell is wrong with me? I wanted this. I’m the one who let him do it. It’s like last time. The images flash through my mind, but tears are blinding me. I push through the massive doors, and nearly trip over the curb.

  When the night air hits my face, I slow down. No one is chasing me. None of them want me to come back. I inhale deeply. The last half an hour has been an emotional rollercoaster. First, I humiliate myself, and then I get grabbed. I cringe inwardly. I’m so stupid.

  As I dig through my purse for my keys, standing under the portico, I glance up and my heart lurches. It’s the hot guy. He’s in the parking lot with his hands on his hips, in front of a black car. The way he stands draws attention to his broad shoulders and trim waist. I drink him in before I notice that the hood is up. Why was I able to talk to him? That guy didn’t make me panic at all. I felt like the old me and not the lunatic that I’ve become. I miss who I was. I miss the old me. I know she’s still inside somewhere, locked away.

  He must sense eyes on him, because he turns and sees me. Raising his voice so that I can hear him, he says, “I take it that neither of us is having a good night?”

  I stare at him for a moment. My heart is still pounding. I’m in danger of stroking out. Before I can think about what I’m doing, I nod and walk toward him. Stopping next to Hot Guy, I say, “It was total suckage.” Some of the tension leaves my shoulders. This guy—whoever he is—has that old friend feeling. I don’t understand it. It feels as if I’ve known him for years even though I don’t know his name. It’s weird.

  I sigh and look at his engine. “Car trouble?”

  Running his fingers through his hair, he says, “It appears that way. It won’t start and it isn’t from lack of trying.”

  Folding my arms across my chest, I watch the way he’s looking at the car and can tell that he doesn’t know what he’s looking at. Neither do I, really, but I know a little. I walk to the driver’s side door, pull it open, and sit in the seat.

  He watches me as I try to crank the engine. It doesn’t start. I look at the little gauges and notice the battery. He’s standing next to me now. “So, you’re a mechanic?”

  I shake my head, “I just pretend to be. It makes for more interesting evenings.” I grin at him, not sure what’s come over me. I never talk random guys, but it’s not like he’s random anymore, right? Hot Guy’s face falls and I realize that he believes me. I laugh, “I’m just kidding. I know a little about cars. For instance, I know this one isn’t going anywhere tonight.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “It seems like your alternator’s dead. Either that or you shoved a hamster up the tailpipe—” My face falls. I wonder if he did something stupid. College guys do all sorts of stupid things to talk to girls. I get out of his car and slam the door. Then, I tilt my head and cross my arms over my chest. “Tell me that that isn’t the reason the car won’t start.”

  He laughs and presses a hand to his chest, shocked that I’d say such a thing. “No, I didn’t do anything like that! And correct me if I’m wrong, but you were the one who came onto me first. I didn’t get here early and sabotage my own car, just so I could meet a girl I didn’t know was coming.” The way he smiles is contagious. He runs his hands through his dark hair, like he wishes he could say more, but he doesn’t. The corners of his mouth curve and he gives me a look that makes tingles crawl across my skin.

  I step toward him, smiling too wide. “I did not come onto you!”

  “You did. Right back in there.” He points toward the restaurant. His face is serious, all smooth features and big blue eyes. “You sat at my table and made me very uncomfortable. I haven’t had such a beautiful woman overtly hit on me like that before. It was quite embarrassing.”

  My smile is making it hard for my mouth to hang open in shock. It keeps opening and then my grin snaps my lips shut. “I did not!” I know he’s teasing me, but I can’t stop. I don’t want it to stop, and I realize that I’m actually laughing.

  His arms are folded over his chest. He taps a finger to his lip, as if he’s remembering. “You did. You ordered wine and just assumed that I’d put out. Really, Sidney, you’ll have to learn to control yourself a little better in the future.” He looks at me from the corner of his eye, as he glances at his car.

  I know he’s baiting me, but I can’t ignore him. I can’t walk away and I don’t want to. He smiles at me with those wicked lips. It makes me want to kiss him, hard. I change tactics. I want to throw him so far off balance that he falls over. I step in front of him and look up at him from under my lashes. “Okay, you caught me. I like you. I want you. I can’t keep my hands off of you. But tell me this, beautiful man; why should I bother controlling myself when I can tell that you want me just as much?” Slowly, I step closer to him. Our bodies are a breath apart as I look up into his eyes.

  Smiling, he manages to say, “You shouldn’t.” He watches me, waiting to see what I’ll do. I feel my heart pounding. His eyes drift to my lips and back to my eyes. Every inch of my body flickers to life. I want to feel his hands on me. I want his lips on my mouth. From the look in his eye, I know he wants it too.

  I lean in closer, teasing him. I feel his breath on my lips. His scent fills my head and I breath him in. “Are you always this irresistible?”

  “Are you always this coy? Do you just flirt, leaving your lips way too close to a man that desperately wants to kiss you?”

  My hands drift to his hair as he speaks. I touch him gently and hear his breath hitch. It sends a thrill through me, making me brave. There’s little space between us. The tension is so strong that I can’t stand it another second. I lean in slowly and brush my lips to his. Beautiful Man stands there. He seems surprised. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t kiss me back. Disappointment floods me. I look down, breaking the kiss. I can’t hide how hard I’m breathing, how much he turns me on.

  Rejection doesn’t look good on me. “I’m sorry,” I breathe. I’m about to turn away when I feel his fingers tilt my chin up. I look him in the eye, and see something there that I didn’t expect.

  He
’s smiling softly. “Don’t be. I just like to be on a first name basis with the random girls that I suck face with in swank parking lots.”

  I smile. “I didn’t realize the parking lot was swank, too.”

  “It is. And Miss Sidney, if you’d be so kind as to divulge your last name?”

  “Who talks like that?” I laugh.

  “I believe that I do.”

  “Sidney Colleli.” I bit my bottom lip and look up at him.

  “Peter Granz.” His voice is deep and rich. The way he says his name makes my insides melt, and the way he kisses is even better. Gently, Peter pulls my lips back to his, and he kisses me lightly. It sends a charge through my body and makes my toes curl. I lean into him, loving the way he feels. Every part of me is tingling, wanting more. The kiss is so light, so brief. When Peter pulls away, I can barely breathe.

  In a breathy voice, I say, “It’s nice to meet you.”

  CHAPTER 3

  I glance back at the restaurant, worried that my date will come through those doors at any second. Eager to leave, I glance at Peter and ask, “Would you like a ride home?”

  Peter nods and says, “That’d be great.”

  I grin. A girlish giggle bubbles up inside me and I swallow it whole. I’m going to be alone with a gorgeous guy in my car! I can’t feel my brain. It left my body during that kiss.

  Peter follows me across the parking lot and back to my car. We both slip inside and I start the engine. I navigate my way through the parking lot and when I pull out onto the road, I ask, “Which way?”

  He smiles at me sheepishly. “I don’t know. I just got here.” The smile on his face is stunning. He looks so boyish and perfect.

  I laugh and glance at him. “You don’t know where you live?”

  “I know where I live. I just don’t know where it is in relation to here. I just moved here.”

  “Oh, how long have you been in town?”

  Peter smiles sheepishly. “A few weeks, but this is my first time over here. The town is sprawling. I admit that I didn’t pay attention on the way over, and my sense of direction is less than stellar. I’ve been using the GPS in my car to get around. I start a new job tomorrow and ran out to grab something to eat. Fast food was getting old. I heard about this place and decided to try it. Then, I met you and the rest is history.” Peter has an easy way about him. He leans back into the seat and looks out the window. He points east and says, “I think I live that way.”

  I can’t stop laughing. “The dump is that way. There’s nothing else over there.”

  Peter’s dark brows pull together as he looks out the window and then back at me. “Are you sure? I thought the apartment looked rather nice when I left.” He leans forward and looks out the window. It’s dark. The sky is inky with the normal spattering of white stars. The only décor on the sides of the road are mesquite trees that jut up from the ground like bony fingers and brittle, dried-out, grass.

  Pulling out, I ask, “What’s the name of your apartment complex?” I try to drive slowly so I won’t miss the on-ramp, if I need to hop on the highway.

  “It’s called Ridgewood, or something like that. It’s across the street from the college.” Peter’s looking at me. I can feel his eyes on the side of my face. I don’t mean to, but I pull my bottom lip into my mouth again and nibble on it. The heat from his gaze makes me nervous. When he speaks, his voice is so deep that it sends ripples through me. “Keep doing that and I’m going to kiss you.”

  “We’re driving,” I say, and look over at him, freeing my lip.

  “I didn’t say it was smart. I just said I’d have to do it. Your lips are amazing, and when you do that it makes me want to nibble them, too.” Heat spreads across my cheeks, along with an insane smile. Peter grins at me. “How cute. You blush.”

  “Shut up,” I laugh, waiting for my cherry red cheeks to go away.

  “No, it’s sweet. I like it.”

  He stops talking, as we pull into his parking lot. Peter lives about five minutes from the restaurant. It was probably the first thing he saw when he came into town.

  “Which one?” I ask, trying to decide which way to turn. The complex is huge. Some of my friends live over here since it has a volleyball court, a club house, and a pool. Me and Millie live in the dorms and can only dream of an apartment like these.

  “That way.” He points, and I drive around to the back of the complex. Peter presses his lips together into a thin line and then looks back at me. “Do you want to come inside for a cup of coffee?”

  I stare at him for a moment. Damn, he’s so beautiful. I want to get to know him better, but I can’t tell what he’s asking for and it’s late. I’m not into one-night stands, and I have enough issues when it comes to guys. Besides, I want someone to be mine when we go all the way. I sound like a high school student. Or a 50’s remnant. Maybe we can go steady, too, and that would be groovy. My mind is all over the place.

  Mid-freakout, I glance at him. “Is that code for sex or are we really having coffee?”

  Peter laughs and feigns shock, putting his hand over his chest. “My God! Is that why all those women at Starbucks keep trying to have coffee with me?”

  I slap his shoulder and shake my head. The smile on my face hasn’t faded since we got in the car. I pull into a parking spot and we both get out. I follow him to the second floor because I can’t let him think that I don’t want his coffee, not after that whole Starbucks comment. We chat about nothing and he teases me more. I tease back. It feels natural. It’s not fake and I’m not scared. I’m so sick of being alone all the time. One event set my life on a different course. I want to change it back. I want to pull out of this nose-dive and get on with things. I’m damaged goods and I know it.

  Peter reaches into his pocket and fishes out his keys. I watch him as he does it. His shoulders are strong and muscular. They lead into a hard torso with a trim waist. I think about running my fingers over his stomach, and feeling my fingertips trace the taut muscles.

  Peter looks back at me as he opens the door. He smiles, like he knows what I was thinking about, and says, “After you.”

  I step inside his apartment and see boxes everywhere. Some are unpacked, but most have the tops torn open, as though he was looking for something before he ran out the door. “Welcome to my shabby abode.”

  “It’s not shabby. And it’s so much nicer than the dump. You just need to unpack.” I glance around. There’s a couch shoved against the wall. Peter walks into a little kitchen off the living area and starts the coffee.

  “Are you hungry?” he calls to me. “Did you get to eat anything? You looked pissed when you walked out. I’m guessing that you didn’t get a chance.” Peter’s standing in the doorway. I turn toward him. He noticed a lot more than I thought.

  “It’s okay. The coffee’s fine.”

  “Ah, coffee,” he says, and winks at me.

  “Not like that! Oh my God, you’re so...” I laugh and navigate my way through the boxes to the couch.

  Sticking his head out of the kitchen, he holds onto the wall and says, “So what? So lovable? So manly? So sexy? So—”

  “So irritating!” Of course I don’t mean it. Every time I stop smiling, he lights me up again like a Christmas tree.

  “Ah. I was hoping you were going to say ‘so sexy—totally beddable.’ I could live with that.” He winks and disappears back into the kitchen. Before I can reply, he tells me, “Well, I have some cold cuts in here. I’ll bring you a sandwich. Just give me a second.” I hear him moving around and decide not to protest. I am hungry. I didn’t get to eat anything except that wine, and wine as dinner usually isn’t a good plan.

  I make myself comfortable on his couch, kick off my heels, pull my feet under me, and curl into the arm of the couch. It smells like him. I rest my face against the soft suede and breathe the scent in. It’s musky and masculine. God, he smells good. If couches were sexy, this one would be a cover model. Pressing my nose to the arm, I inhale deeply.

>   Peter chooses that moment to reappear, plate in hand, and stops. He’s staring at me with an amusedly shocked expression on his face. “Are you sniffing my couch?”

  “No!” I sit up fast, too fast. I panic. He’s staring at me like I’m a freak. I probably am, I mean I was snorting the guy’s couch. I need a diversion. Anything. I reach into my brain and pull out the only thing that’s there.

  Using my best bedroom voice, I wink at him and ask “Can I distract you with some coffee?”

  Peter’s face glows when he laughs. He takes the few steps forward and hands me the plate. I gratefully take it. For a brief moment, I consider pulling the sandwich apart and hiding behind the bread. The way Peter is looking at me doesn’t help the rosy glow on my face. I got caught sniffing his couch. God, I can’t think of anything worse than that. He probably thinks I escaped from the asylum.

  We stay quiet too long, which makes me nervous. Between bites, I ask him the basics. “So, you don’t sound like a hick, but I can’t tell where you’re from.”

  “Connecticut. Yankee-ville, same as you, little Miss Jersey.”

  “You moved down here for work?”

  Peter nods. “Yeah. It was time for a change of pace.” He looks away from me when he says it, his eyes dropping to the floor. There’s more there, something heavy, but I don’t press him. “This place came up on the grid, and I thought Texas would be different, so I went for it and managed to piss off my entire family. That was a bonus.” He tilts his head at me before sitting down on the couch.

  “Yeah, my family was mad when I came down here, too. They gave me the old Italian guilt about abandoning my family... Like they can’t function without me?” I bite my sandwich and shake my head. “My family is so tight that none of us can breathe without someone else knowing about it. I was glad to get out of there. I needed space.” I finish the sandwich and look for a spot to put the plate.