“I take it back. Innocent or not, that girl is perfect for you.” I throw some sand at her, but she just ducks and laughs mischievously.
“Right now I have the urge to rip someone’s throat out, so don’t push me.” She chuckles openly in my face, knowing I’ll never hurt her in any way. She must be the most annoying female in my life, right after Mel and maybe my mom.
“I don’t know …” I start, “If this is love. But I know she’s the only fucking girl who can drive me bonkers!”
“I thought I drove you insane?” she pouts.
“Yes, but only my mind …” I sneer, “You absolutely don’t make my body, heart, and penis go berserk.”
“Oh my gosh … you’ve fallen hard!” Thalia squeals.
“Shit! So what’s the problem? You’re obviously pussy-whipped, and the sexual tension between you two is so thick you can drive your bike on it.”
“Besides the fact that she’s my best friend’s sister,” I pause to think, “I also have to break almost all of the rules to be with her.” Thalia knows about my rules … she’s one of the few people who knows almost everything about me … we grew up together … she went through every high and low with me.
“You paused. You had to think about it.” She drops her head onto my shoulder. “That means the rules are not what’s holding you back.”
I stare at the sand for a long while, as if trying to make sense of what she just said.
She’s right … the fact that I haven’t told Mel what I decided, or gone through this past year-and-a-half, is not because of her brothers or my rules … it’s because she scares the shit out of me.
I’m a coward. Plain and simple.
“Well, the way I see it there are three possible outcomes – only one of them good.” She wiggles her head deeper into my neck to find a more comfortable position. “One – you can do nothing and stay miserable for the rest of your life.” I don’t like number one.
“Two – you can man up, get rejected, and stay miserable for the rest of your life.” I like this one even less.
“Three – you can man up and get your happily ever after.” I fucking like this option.
“Your choice.”
“I guess you’re right – if there’s even a small chance to be happy with Mel, I should at least try.”
“And between you and me … that girl loves you too. She might just not know it yet.”
Date = 8 November
Place = San Francisco (Damion’s house)
POV – Melaena
I’ve never been to Satan’s lair… aka Damion’s place. Not once. Never been allowed, or invited, for that matter. Okay, granted he’s only been staying on his own for about two years, one of which I haven’t been around, but still.
And now I look at the breathtakingly beautiful two-story in awe. It’s mainly constructed out of limestone, with lots of glass, separated by iron and wood. It almost looks like a modern take on a mountain cottage, complete with a chimney and everything. It’s just bigger, much bigger than I imagined, and L-shaped with a hipped roof. Somewhere in my mind I it tickles the familiarity button, but I know I’ve never been here.
As I walk on a pathway edged by green shrubs, colorful blooms, and shining lights, I gawk at my surroundings. I think we need to find another name for this … it’s more like an angel’s retreat. A dark angel.
It is surrounded on three sides by a forest, with the trees creating ominous shapes in the moonlight. To my left is a little wooden dock with a sizable pond where misty steam evaporates from the water, creating a mystical ambiance. Hundreds of fireflies flicker their puny lights over the surface, while a frog-and-cricket choir hums out a cacophonic chatter that harmonizes into tranquil peacefulness – it’s as if you pulled a page from a fantasy fairy tale.
I stare in wonderment, and then eventually cope to close my dropped jaw.
This picture, right here, will brighten any gloomy day … a happy place where life is fun and carefree, where you can forget about worry and anxiety – like a little piece of heaven.
“It’s absolutely euphoric!” I manage to get out and look up at him, seeing the now-familiar glint in his eyes, that I still can’t figure out yet. He keeps looking at me for a while before he answers.
“Yes, it is.” His voice is throaty, titillating my womanly hoods, as I get the feeling we’re not talking about the same picture.
“I might just stay here forever,” I joke … but I actually would not mind. Not one bit.
“That’s the plan,” his voice still breaking low.
“You know you confuse me.” We eye each other as if trying to read the other’s mind.
“Ditto.” With one last indecipherable look, I start walking down the path again.
“Did you design this?” The corners of his mouth creep up a little as if he’s secretly smiling at himself.
“My future wife helped.” He takes my hand and blood floods into my ears, deafening out his words.
“About 10 or so years back, my father bought four neighboring estates,” he says, “They built their house on one. The plan was that, as soon as each child graduated, they would construct their own place, secluded, but still close … ” Why is he using past tense? Did the plan change?
“So your parents planned to have three kids?” I dwell. Luke was not born back then. Maybe that’s why their plans changed.
“Sort off.” The sudden anguish in his voice demands my attention, so I peer questionably at him. He looks away, but not before I notice the melancholy clouding his eyes, and runs his fingers through his hair. Am I missing something? Although I’m not nearly as attentive as my brothers, I’m not half bad. I wrack my mind to find what could be the cause of his quick mood change.
Is it because their plans didn’t work out? Because instead of three kids they only had two.
A vein is jumping in his jaw. My curiosity is peaked. Maybe Haley had complications and could not have any more children, or something.
He opens the solid wood pivot door – a rearing horse and black panther are carved into the wood, two animals that integrate so fluidly together – my favorite animal with his. But I’m sure it’s only a coincidence.
“Welcome to my house, Miss Blackburn.” He says with no hint of any sadness. The person who says girls have mood swings, clearly never lived with a bunch of boys.
“You know … you’re the first non-related female to ever walk across this threshold,” he says proudly, taking the winds from my sails.
Mixed feelings rush through my system – on one side, I’m rather shocked to hear that he’s never brought a girl home (for a playboy like him that’s hard to believe) – on the other, I’m excited to be first.
The open-plan design has a stylish, warm, and homey atmosphere with rustic elements; mostly wood and brick, combined with neutral colors and black … his favorite color – here and there broken by a dab of different shades of green. Which happens to be my favorite color.