POV – Damion
“Are you gonna order a third dessert? Or are we leaving?” She has a point. We’ve been here since four. That’s what the message said … Scoma’s. Pick you up at 4.
Now it’s nearly six and there’s no sign of her or the douchebag.
“Can you tell me again why we are here exactly?” I stare into her teasing face. If she wasn’t one of my most favorite people on this earth, I would probably have strangled her by now.
Why are we here? That’s a very good question. One I don’t exactly have an answer for – except … stupidity. Maybe jealousy. Or possessiveness. None of them are very good answers.
Then my heart does a double-take triple-somersault with a fucking headstand, leaving me gulping for air.
She walks in with that stuck-up puppy trainer, in the shortest, sexiest, milk-pink dress that curves tight against her perfect body. And the little zipper holding in her cleavage makes me pay fucking attention.
“What type of dick-teaser dress is she wearing?” It slips out.
Thalia turns to look at the door and her face lights up like the fourth of fucking July.
“Oh, that’s a zipper front, long-sleeved, ribbed knit, mini bodycon dress over black leggings,” Thalia rattles with a peal of distinct laughter in her voice. “Which, judging by the drool, sizzled up your sexual organ.”
“Smart ass.” But she’s right. I am turned on.
“I wonder if you get it in red? Would love one for myself.”
“You know,” I say, “I Can’t remember exactly why I brought you with me.”
“Because I’m extremely good company. So, who’s the blonde?” She’s way too enthusiastic. “And who’s the hottie at her side? Yum.” I’m getting a headache.
“She’s my best friend’s little sister.” And as for the hottie, I’m trying to imagine he’s not there.
“So she must be a Blackburn since Logan is your BFF.” Thalia occasionally works with Enrique and has met Jackson and Ilkay at the club a few times, but not Logan.
“Oh, look at you working that out all on your own.” I watch that doggie-two-shoes pull out her chair. I feel an eye twitch coming on.
Why is she here with him? What happened to Ren?
“Wait,” Thalia raps with shining eyes, “is she the crush that started your rules?” She cracks up. “Oh, my holy moose, now it makes so much more sense.” Definitely an eye twitch to go with the headache.
“I can see the appeal, she’s really beautiful, but … eh,” she stammers and bites her lip. “She seems so innocently naive and you are … well … YOU,” she continues.
“Okay, you know what …” I pout, “Judgmental people don’t get a say.”
“Well, can I tell you then why she’s with Mr. Hot-as-hell over there instead of sitting here with your sorry ass?”
“Not interested,” I say, cause I already know. I’m a coward when it comes to her. “And he’s not that hot.” She cranks her neck to look at me.
“He so is.”
“Not.” I glance over at the dude.
“He really is smoking,” she says flatly.
“Stop it,” I hiss. “He looks like me – if I had longer hair, different eyes, and a long ass stick up my butt.”
Sensing the tone and perhaps that I was being serious, she asks: “Are you pissed or jealous?”
“Neither.” Dammit. “Both. But that’s not it.”
“Men only have two emotions – horny and hungry … and you can’t be hungry, you ate two desserts.”
“Just shut up.”
She does and peers at me for a long minute. “You know I check the news like all the time. And I haven’t seen much of your man-whore ways in there for a while. Actually, nothing since the accident.”
“No.”
“You stopped fucking around?” She pry loudly with huge eyes.
It immediately draws the attention of three pretty church ladies sitting at the neighboring table. They look at us with so much biblical holiness on their faces that I feel like doing a Hail Mary. Instead, I opt for a goofy smile, and they blush like beets, giggling behind their hands.
I sigh and turn back to face her. “Is that so hard to believe?” I keep my voice down.
“Yes.”
“I believe you, son,” one lady says, leaning closer to our table.
Thalia ignores her and eyeballs me. “Wait, you’re serious?” I nod.
“So you haven’t had sex at all?” Still hesitant. I pull up my shoulders. I would not say that.
“Not with a girl.” The three ladies slurp in their breaths.
“With a boy?” one asks intuitively. That’s actually diametrically funny, but I’m not in the mood to laugh.
“I think, Bertina, he was talking about a catholic handshake,” her friend helps her right. Bertina pulls big eyes, her lips forming a silent ‘O’ shape.
“Fuck!” Thalia swears. She slaps a hand over her mouth as she looks at the ladies. “Sorry,” she mumbles from behind her mouth.
“It’s alright dearie, it happens to the best of us,” Bertina says but Thalia is already focused on me again.