“I thought your mom brought takeaways.” He laughs and I hate that I love the way it sounds.
“Oh, honey, Haley Grimm doesn’t do takeaways.” Another reason why she would be the perfect mother-in-law. Too bad her son is so annoying.
“I think I might just be in love with your mom.” I reach for a piece of bread, but he pulls it away.
“Hey, are you gonna share?”
“If I share -” A devilish glint in his eyes. “Will you tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
I weigh the danger of opening a way for him into my world with the promise of mouth-watering food. What if he peels open things I’m not even willing to unwrap and explore myself?
But then my stomach wins and shuts my brain. I nod and place my hand on my heart.
“I swear, your honor sir.” The sparks in his eyes flare into little fires of pure evil mischief. This is a mistake, my brain argues, while my body fails, my heart jams and my stomach rumbles.
He hands me a plate with an innocent smile that doesn’t fool me one bit. I take a seat at the breakfast nook and chunk a huge spoon of everything into my plate. A big bite of the bread vanishes into my mouth uprooting a loud satisfying moan. Then I stuff in some carrots.
“It’s so good.” I talk with my mouth still full of food. Damion looks at me pulling his mouth skew, a strange luster in his eyes.
“So, if I make you a meal, topping this one, will you then fall in love with me?” His green eyes are now layered, so I can’t determine if he’s serious or not.
For an indefinite amount of time, we stay like that, just staring at each other, chewing, swallowing. Although I’m a hopeless romantic … I never believed in those storybook stares … until now.
“It’s not that easy, it will take you at least four meals, maybe five.” I wink at him, playing along, “And they’ll have to be extra spectacular.”
“Five it is. Does breakfast count?” I just shake my head.
“You’re something else, you know.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He wiggles his eyebrows and gives me a big BEAST-smirk. I take another bite, and I moan again softly this time, closing my eyes. Damn, this food is good. Or maybe I’m just hungry.
“Can you please stop doing that?” I open one eye and look at him.
“What? It’s a compliment … this food is delicious.” I gesture around with my fork in my hand. He looks at me with a meaningful shamefaced expression and wiggles in his seat as if the chair is suddenly uncomfortable.
“Truth. Is there something between you and the puppy trainer?” I got off easily.
“No, we’re just friends.”
“So why were you on a date then?” he asks warily.
“That’s two questions. And it wasn’t a date, it was a very lucky accidental meeting.” Why am I explaining to him?
“My turn. Tell me about Thalia.” He frowns.
“We grew up together and I adore her. She’s one of the few people that knows almost everything about me and still loves me.” I pause at that shockingly insightful statement. I’ve learned a few things here – he loves Thalia; he’s hiding some deep secrets in his closet; and I know shit about him.
“That day at the zoo -” he starts and my heart ghosts out, “Just two friends having fun, or something more?”
I put down my fork. “Truth, remember,” he reminds me with a gruff voice.
“More,” I whisper, “but I which it was just two friends having fun.”
He arches his brow and my brain goes haywire. “It took me years to get over that.” Why I admit that I don’t know. It’s as if I had to get it off my chest. I grab another piece of bread and take a bite.
“Why did you have a black eye? You know, the following day when you and Logan came to the house with those girls … you had a black eye.” I put down the bread. “I almost started to believe the curse myself,” I chuckle and lick some cheese from my fingers.
“Jackson,” he mumbles, eyes locked on my lips.
“Jackson saw me dropping you off and enforced the rules.” I roll my eyes. I should have guessed. I stuff my beak with pie to not speak my mind about stupid boys and their stupid rules. I should be furious … at him … at my brother … but unconsciously, I’m not.
My phone farts on the table.
Kiara: Sleeping over?
I swallow and type back.
Mel: Yes. Explain later #facetofacegirltalk
“Okay, I know you’re scared of clowns. Is there anything else that scares you?” He pushes his empty plate to the side.
This is an easy one. “Guns.” I eat another carrot. It’s sour-sweetness melts on my tongue. “Why?” Again two questions, but I decide to let it fly.
“It’s a long story that also includes Jackson.” He gets up and starts putting the dishes into the washer. I grab a last piece of bread and hand him my plate.
Then he takes out two cups, places them on the table, and spoons in some sugar, while I switch on the coffee machine.
“Okay, let’s continue this somewhere more comfortable and warm. That’s a story I need to hear.” He grabs my hand and leads me through the sliding doors to the swimming pool area. On one side is a glass room, fully furnished with what looks like the softest most comfortable sofas ever, and a huge fireplace taking up one wall. A fire is already burning and I wonder who started it.
He urges me down on the couch closest to the fire, settles next to me, and covers us both with a bottle-green wool blanket.
“Okay, you may begin.” We’re sitting so close to each other that skin is touching skin.
“I was about four … maybe five, and I followed Jackson.” I can’t exactly recall what happened. “First he went to visit our grandfather, but he didn’t go inside. Instead, he ran to the stables. It’s here where the details get a little foggy. I remember I found a gun. A shot went off and the horses went crazy, and nearly trampled me … but Jackson saved me. He hurt his arm and I cut my knee.” I lift the blanket and show him the scar.
“Somehow, the gun stuck in my brain. Not the horses.” Just the thought of it gives me the chills. Damion places his hand on my leg and a destructive heat starts at his touch and spreads over my body, replacing the chills.
“Maybe somehow my childish brain associated the blood with the gun. There was so much blood. Everywhere. Or that’s how it seemed.”