Damon’s [POV]
Someone corners me during the break. I feel the presence behind me without even looking up from my locker. I’ve had more than enough occasions to sharpen my instincts.
“Hi,” a girl’s voice calls behind me. I take my time closing my locker before turning around to face her.
“Hi, Anna,” I answer. She’s been pestering me since yesterday, and I couldn’t give less of a damn. She’s as close to the cheerleading type as it gets. Tall, blonde, huge tits. She has the attitude to go with it, too. She knows she’s beautiful and expects everyone to fall at her feet. This time, she chose the wrong guy.
“Black suits you, Damon.” She tries to purr out my name, but to me it just sounds like she’s swallowed an egg. Still, I’m sure enough idiots have fallen for it. “Let’s go out sometime.”
“Why? You don’t know anything about me other than my name.” Her face falls for a split-second, but then she flashes a smile. Persistent girl. I can tell she has no idea what answer to give because she thinks her beauty doesn’t require one. As if to make a point, she pushes her chest forward, twirling a few strands of hair between her fingers. Everyone from the classroom storms out, their voices filling the space. I spot the girl from this morning in the crowd, the one I texted. Dani. Blondie also sees her, giving her a short once-over then dismissing her with a self-indulgent smirk. This seals it for me.
“So, I know a nice cafe nearby. We could go after school,” Anna says.
“No. And a word of advice: start working on your personality; you have a lot of catching up to do. Your ass and boobs aren’t as good as you think.” I purse my lips. She backs away like I’ve cracked a whip in front of her. I take off, swinging my backpack over my shoulder. I can still see Dani, even though she’s far ahead of me on the corridor. I smile as I remember the shade of pink her skin turned when I was texting her. She seems so pure; it’s a sin to flirt with her. But something’s hidden deep beyond that innocence-passion. I don’t think she even knows it. I do. I saw it in the way she talked to me this morning, how her eyes sparkled. It was almost worth it riling her up just to see her like that. I wonder how she’d spark if I did something else to her.
I shake my head, musing how this girl can have this effect on me. It’s the first time since Mom died that I feel anything else except pain and anger. I’ve been in Hell since the funeral, and I can’t make anyone pay for it, though I’ll keep trying. That bastard calling himself my father deserves it. My fingers twitch, forming into fists as anger swells up inside me anew. Then Dani turns and smiles brightly at me, and that anger is replaced by another equally consuming sensation… my cock throbbing in my jeans. Easy boy. She’s not that kind of girl, and she’s much better off without you.
Dani’s [POV]
At lunchtime, I prepare to go to the cafeteria when Hazel says, “I’ve got to go. Mom is picking me up early today.”
“Oh, right. I forgot. You’re going to Lake Tahoe for the weekend.”
“That’s right.” She beams, rubbing her palms together in excitement. “And the week after Valentine’s Day, we’ll go to London. Mom is at the principal right now, trying to convince him to give me two weeks off, so we can make a tour.”
“I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t agree. Your mom can talk anyone into anything.” I know it’s selfish, but I’m jealous of Hazel. She and her parents do something together every other weekend. Sometimes they take me with them, but it’s embarrassing to intrude on their family time too often. Their family time feels real, not a wisp of resemblance to the weekly Thursday night dinners at my house. They laugh together, and Hazel’s parents get involved in every way in her life. I crash at her place often. The weekends I don’t spend with Hazel, I try to spend with James. Nothing like my brother to ensure my belly hurts from too much laughing. The time with him is almost enough to fill me with energy for a week of being ignored and being on my own in my parents’ enormous mansion.
Almost.
***
I say goodbye to Hazel and her mom, then buy myself lunch and go up to the roof, as usual, only to find it occupied. Damon is lying on his back, his eyes closed as he soaks in the sunlight. Next to him is a half-eaten sandwich.
“What are you doing here?” I ask loudly.
“Avoiding people.” He pushes himself up in a sitting position, and I’m distracted by the wind blowing through his hair. It dislodges a few dark tresses, and they stray around wildly. “What are you doing here?”
“This is where Hazel and I eat lunch. Same reason as you.”
“Isn’t the roof off-bounds, at least for nerds with a teacher-defending streak like you?” His comments should rub me the wrong way, but he’s smiling-not smirking-as he says it, and there is no malice in his voice. It flatters me. He takes a bite of his sandwich and grimaces in disgust.
“Oh, but nerds like me know where the good food is in the cafeteria.” I sit next to him and hold out my burger, beckoning him to take a bite.
“This is good,” he says incredulously. “How did I end up with this crap?”
“It’s your fault. Why did you go to the sandwich and salads corner?”
“Because there was no line there.”
I grin. “That should’ve been a straightforward hint that the food there sucks.”
“They charge a shitload of fees. Shouldn’t all the food be good?”
“Well, technically, that,” I point to his sandwich, “is the best food. It’s in the healthy corner.”
He snorts. “Figures. World’s weirdest paradox. Everything that’s healthy tastes like crap.”
“They had a decent tuna salad yesterday.”
“You eat tuna salad? And I thought you were okay.”
“It wasn’t too bad. More burger?”
“Aren’t you going to be hungry later on? It’s not that big,” he says. I assure him it’s all right, and we share my burger in silence. I become aware of his proximity, and I remember how it felt to have his arms around me, to breathe in his breath. A flutter in my stomach alerts me that my thoughts are heading into dangerous territory. It probably meant nothing to him. Still, watching him eat and licking his lips fills me with more strange sensations… like heat and ache for something unknown.
“Where is your friend?” he asks. “The one you sit with in all the classes?”
“Her mom picked her up early today. They’re traveling this weekend.”
He twists a leather bracelet on his wrist. Like everything else he wears, it’s black.
“Who are you mourning?” I ask. Damon pauses in the act of playing with the bracelet. The skin around his eyes tightens a notch. “Sorry, that’s none of my business. You don’t have to tell me. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“My mother.”
“I’m sorry.”
His eyes drift over the trees in the distance. “She died of a stroke. She had her first one four years ago and it left half her body paralyzed. She had her second one last month and died.” His eyes are bright and shiny. I think he’s withholding tears, which bewilders me. Not because he feels pain, that’s natural. I just didn’t expect him to express it in front of me.
“And you came here to live with your dad.”
His posture changes in the fraction of a second. “Yeah,” he says through gritted teeth. Something tells me he knows how to deal with anger better than with pain. “First time I saw him was at Mom’s funeral.”
“What?”
He balls his palms to fists. “He knocked up Mom when she was sixteen, and then took off. Mom never heard from him again. Still can’t believe he had the nerve to show up at her funeral.”
“The bright side to this is that you didn’t get sent to a group home. You’re not eighteen yet. Do you have any other family?”
“Grandparents. My mother’s parents, but I never met them. They didn’t want anything to do with Mom after she had me.”
“Oh.” Really, oh; that’s terrible. I make a mental note not to complain about my parents anymore. They might not be the most affectionate people, but they would never turn their back on me or James.
“You were right this morning,” he says.
“About what?”
“That I’m frustrated and lash out at people.”
“Does that make you feel better?”
“Not really. But this,” he gestures with his fingers between the two of us, “does. You’re easy to talk to.” His pulls his gaze to me, and an involuntary sigh escapes my lips. There’s something devastating about the intensity of his green eyes. It muddles my thoughts. “You put something in that burger?”
“A truth potion?” My voice is strangely high-pitched.
“You know if you ever tell anyone about this conversation, I will vehemently deny it?”
I grin. “Ah, you’re careful not to ruin your bad boy image. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. But I warn you, if you behave like an asshole again, I’ll have no problem calling you out on it in front of people.”
“Is this a threat?” He leans forward, and I’m suddenly too preoccupied with his lips to come up with an answer.
“You bet it is,” I finally stammer.
“Fair enough. Someone should call me out.”
“People do. Principal Charleston did this morning.”
“Yeah… Older people do all the time. But if you call me out, I must be doing something wrong.”
“Interesting yardstick you’re using to measure how much of an asshole you are.”
He studies me, stretching out lazily. “What brought this on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Yesterday, it seemed like you’d be happy if I disappeared.”
I hesitate. “Do you know our fathers work together?”
“Your last name’s Cohen, right? I heard it in class and thought it sounded familiar.”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t get the impression your parents like my father too much. They’re smart.”
“You’re right, they don’t like him. They said I should steer clear of you.”
Damon breaks into guffaws, grabbing me by the shoulders and pulling me toward him so I land face-first in his chest. “And you decided to do the exact opposite?” His aftershave catches me unprepared, the mix of musk and the manly scent coming off his skin dizzying me. I’m trembling with the awareness of our closeness.
“Yeah.”
He laughs the same heartfelt laugh for a full minute before calming enough to say, “I like you, Dani Cohen. Very much. You always say what you think, don’t you?”
“My brother keeps telling me this.”
“He’s right.”
“Where did you live before?” I ask.
“Rhode Island, but I don’t want to talk about home. You do the talking while I busy myself finishing your burger.”
“What do you want me to talk about?”
“What are you doing this weekend?”
“Oooh, I’m doing a movie marathon with my brother. He lives in a penthouse in San Jose and has a home theater.”
“What are you watching?” he asks
between bites.
“All movies based on comic books from the last twenty years.”
“Doing your homework before the big superhero reboot comes in cinemas? Like anyone needed a new version.”
“I know, right? But I’m a sucker for comic book-based movies, so I’ll go see it.”
“Me, too. We could go together.” He throws the words casually, but my pulse starts jackhammering. Taking the very last bite of my burger, Damon lies on his back, resting his head on his palms. “Do you hang out with your brother often?”
“Yeah. We mostly watch movies, go shopping, or eat out. Sometimes, during the summer vacation, we go sailing. He’s a bit of an adrenaline junkie, does skydiving and stuff, but doesn’t take me with him for that.”
“You’d like to skydive?” There is so much disbelief in his voice… it’s almost insulting.
“No idea. How can I like something if I’ve never tried it? You can’t discard anything as bad until you’ve tried it,” I say. His eyes glint so darkly it sends a shiver down my spine. I like this-both the glint and the shiver.
“Careful, Dani; this type of thinking can get you into trouble.”
“You know all about it, don’t you?”
“Trust me, I do. I’m walking trouble. You should stay away from me. It’s catchy.” Something in his tone tells me this is the last thing he wants to say on this topic.
“How do you get along with your dad?”
Any trace of a smile melts from his beautiful face. “You mean when I don’t want to punch him? I hate him. He hates me, too.”
“I don’t think that’s true. Why would he have taken you in otherwise?”
“Remorse or something. I don’t know. But it’s clear he doesn’t want me here. We avoid each other, and when we do end up in the same room, we fight. I feel like a prisoner in that fucking house. It’s so big you could fit ten families inside, but it feels like a prison.”
I don’t say anything. I haven’t been through what he has, but the feeling of being trapped is familiar.
“If you need to talk, you can call me.” I poke him in the ribs playfully. “Since you have my number and all.”
We walk together to the afternoon class, which garners us incredulous stares. Damon doesn’t notice, but I do. James texts me that he’ll take the bag of clothes I left at home and pick me up right after school to start our weekend together. That’s a bonus few hours with him since the original plan was he’d pick me up from home tonight.
When classes are over, I tell Damon, “Promise me you won’t get into trouble with your dad.”
“I promise.”