Dani’s [POV]
The next evening, I go out to dinner with James and Parker. My family’s driver, Paul, takes me to the steak restaurant I go to with James every once in a while.
The two men await me inside the restaurant, already sitting at a table. They both smile when they see me. Given how busy they are, I’m beyond happy they made time to eat dinner with me.
“Hello, cousin,” Parker says as I approach them, grinning from ear to ear. His thick British accent is music to my ears. “Long time, no see.”
“She’ll be all yours in the fall when she moves to England,” James says.
“Can’t wait,” Parker and I say at the same time.
The waitress arrives and asks us what we want to drink. She sizes up both men, pushing her chest out and fluttering her eyelids. She’s ridiculous, but I can’t blame her. James and Parker are both stunning. Each of them has a devastating effect on women. When they’re next to each other? It’s just too much awesomeness. Ridiculously flirty behavior is accepted.
After the waitress brings our drinks, Parker asks, “How are prom preparations going?”
I choke on my soda, eying him to see if he’s pulling my leg or not. Nope, it’s a serious question. But I suppose he thinks this subject is a hit with senior girls. Chuckling, I say, “I can’t believe I’m having dinner with two men, and prom is brought up. It’s still months away.”
“Well, when we were in boarding school,” Parker says, pointing to James and himself, “that was all girls talked about in senior year. Granted, a long time’s passed since then, so maybe things have changed.”
“We’re not that old,” James says. Turning to me, he adds, “You were thinking about not going at some point.”
“I think I’ll go.” As I say the words, Damon’s green eyes pop into my mind. What is wrong with me? “Hazel and I will go shopping for dresses in about a month or so.”
“I can join you if you need a second opinion,” James says. My brother must love me very much if he’s willing to endure hours of shopping to spend time with me.
“You’ll get bored to death,” I tell him earnestly, though I secretly wish for him to join Hazel and me.
“I can tag along,” Parker offers. “James and I can talk about business while you and your friend try out dresses.”
I could hug both of them right now. “That sounds great.”
“Now, why don’t we order?” Parker asks. “I’m famished.”
I don’t even glance at the menu. “We recommend the house steak.”
“Yeah, it’s our favorite. We eat it every time,” James adds.
“Nah,” Parker says. “I only eat steak back home. Americans overcook the meat.”
“Parker, this is a steak restaurant,” I clarify.
“They must have other stuff, too.” Parker inspects the menu with such concentration, you’d think it was a balance sheet.
James looks at him as if Parker has grown a second head. “I don’t think a Brit can comment on food.”
“Those are all cliches,” Parker says, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Bad food-”
“Worse weather,” I offer. The three of us burst out laughing. A warm feeling spreads through me. It lasts for the entire evening, while we sit through a main course and two desserts.
This is what family time should feel like.
Dani’s [POV]
If I could describe the rest of the week using one word only, it would be dazzling. I gravitate toward Damon because his presence has the inexplicable effect of sending me into a happy zone. We have an unspoken agreement to meet on the rooftop every day for lunch. He still ignores everyone and snaps at teachers at least twice a day, which earned him another trip to the principal. But when it’s just the two of us on the roof, he changes. He jokes and laughs… and flirts.
Or at least, I think he does. I’ve never been flirted with, so I can’t be sure he’s not just making fun of me. At any rate, I’m enjoying it. Damon is the only person, aside from James and Hazel, who sees me. Also, he is smart. A plus that seems unfair, as Hazel says, for someone blessed already with good looks.
“I can’t believe you’re so good at this stuff,” I tell him the next Tuesday when we study Trig again. Hazel did join us this time, but she took off earlier because her parents were picking her up. They’re starting their two-week trip today.
“It’s not that hard.”
“At what other subjects are you ridiculously good?”
“Physics and computer science.”
I groan. “So, you’re a numbers guy. Remind me to introduce you to my brother.”
“I also like reading.”
I look at him cautiously. “Now you’re just making fun of me.”
“I am not,” he says indignantly. “Try me.”
“What’s your favorite book?”
“I, Robot.”
I scoff. “That’s not literature.”
“Now, don’t go all Dickens on me. I never said I liked fancy books. I just like reading,” he says. I squirm, and he laughs. “You look like you’re about to confess a deadly sin.”
“How do you know?”
“You are so easy to read.”
This sobers me up. Just how easy? Does he know I think of his lips more often than I should? Each time he flirts, my heart somersaults.
“So, what do you have to confess?” His eyes bore into mine as if expecting some profound secret.
“Well, my absolute favorite series are Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings.”
“I’ve never read them.”
“What? Oh, that’s a big minus point.”
“You’re giving me points? What for?”
“I… um…”
“What do I get plus points for? Being good-looking? Irresistible?” He eyes me intensely, inching closer to me. “I might not get points for my reading, but I can do other things very well.” His raspy voice sends tendrils of heat low in my stomach. After a few seconds, he must decide he’s tormented me enough because he pulls back. I breathe in deeply. “And you were judging my reading tastes?” We laugh together, stretching on the roof. It’s such a liberating experience.
“I want to study English Literature,” I explain. “These series are sort of pariahs for serious literature readers.” At least they were for my interviewer at Oxford.
“You’re incredibly sweet, my Dani.”
My Dani. The words ripple through me. I know he probably didn’t mean it in any significant way, but at the moment, it just gives me delicious chills.
“What is your favorite serious literature read?”
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” I say.
His face falls. “It was my mom’s favorite, too. I used to read it to her very often.”
“You read to her? That’s nice.”
“Yeah. She had trouble reading, so I did it for her. Reading was her way of escaping her reality, forgetting how incapacitated she was.”
“Isn’t that why we all love books, because they help you escape into a different world?” For brief moments, that magical feeling of being utterly buried in the pages of a book washes over me, and then Damon’s words snap me to reality.
“You have everything, Dani. What could you possibly want different?” His voice has a tinge to it that makes my stomach tighten. It’s not accusing, but incredulous. I instantly feel guilty.
“You’ll laugh at me.”
“No, I won’t,” Damon assures me, his eyes wandering curiously over my face.
“I just wish I had a warmer family. All those things you did with your mom-reading, cooking-I never did that with my parents. When I was very young, my live-in babysitter used to read me bedtime stories. My parents always had… other things to do. I know it’s not such a big deal. I mean, not compared to the problems you had to-”
I stop when Damon puts his hand over mine. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to come off as judgmental.”
“When I have my family, it’ll be very different,” I say with conviction.
“I’m sure it will.”
Staring at our interlinked hands, I voice a deep fear. “But what if I don’t know how to be different? I mean, aren’t we supposed to learn from our parents how to be parents?”
“You will be exactly who you want to be, Dani. You are a very warm person. That’s not the kind of thing you learn from others. Otherwise, I’m doomed to be a crappy father.” Damon says the last words with a grin, but beneath it I detect unease. His fingers tic on the rooftop, and then we finally get on with our Trig exercises.
***
On Wednesday, we go into an hour-long debate about movies. He’s a fan of old-school movies, but I vehemently defend the latest blockbusters. That night is the first time he calls me. We end our talk at four o’clock in the morning. On Thursday, we both show up at school with dark circles under our eyes. I nearly fall asleep in Trig, which makes Mr. Smith angry. He’s used to my average performance in Trig and never seemed upset by it-probably because I’m a stellar student in the other subjects. At lunch, between Trig’s exercises, Damon and I talk about music. Maybe it’s his mom’s influence, but his tastes smack of the eighties. Despite my best efforts, he refuses to tell me how he got his bruises. It’s a whiff colder than the past few days, so we stay huddled together on the roof. He asks me if I can help him out in Biology, and I agree with the added request that he also let me introduce him to modern music.
“Pfft,” he exclaims. “Only if you let me do something in exchange.”
“What?”
“You’ve never been kissed before. How about we remedy that?” The proximity of his lips wipes away any thought. At the moment, the only thing I can concentrate on is how his teeth tug at his lower lip. “Dani?”
“I… um…” My voice trails as I try to make sense of what he just said, but his lips are distracting me. Is he joking? What kind of response is appropriate for this?
“You just tell me when you’re ready.”
His tone is so casual; he might have just asked me if I wanted a bite of his steak. I am ruined for the day.
***
On Thursday night, we spend hours on the phone again, so I’m a zombie in class on Friday. To top that, Mr. Smith catches me texting Damon instead of solving an exercise. I end up with detention-for the first time in my school career. Damon visits the principal’s office again.
I buy lunch for both of us and go on the roof, waiting for Damon. He shows up ten minutes later, sporting a somber look and a hellish mood. He kicks a small twig that fell out of the oak towering over the roof. Every muscle in his body contorts with anger.
“I can’t wait to be eighteen and get out of fucking California.”
“Damon-”
“They know.” He turns to me abruptly. “The teachers. I thought the principal would have the fucking decency to keep it to himself, but he told them. They know about Mom.”
“That’s not so bad,” I say, thinking that now they’ll understand why he acts out.
“They pity me, Dani. I don’t want their pity.”
“Oh.”
He sits in front of me, his legs crossed, and his shoulders hunched. He’s buzzing with tension; I’m waiting for him to snap at any moment.
“Sorry about your detention.”
“Oh, it was about time,” I say cheerfully. “Hazel is very proud of me. She just texted me.”
“Your parents?”
I snort. “Don’t worry. Unless I drop out of school or something, they’ll never take an interest in what I’m doing. They never do.”
“James?”
That makes me pause. James does take an active interest in what I do. Yes, he occasionally mocks me for being such a good kid, but I know he doesn’t mean it.
“I don’t think they’ll call him or anything. They never have before.”
“They never had a reason before,” he points out.
After we finish eating, he lies on his back, putting his head in my lap like it’s the most natural thing to do. Instantly, warmth pools low in my abdomen and the spot between my thighs like someone lit up every single cell. I stay still like a statue, hoping my body’s reaction to him is noticeable only to me.
“Dani, I want to ask you something and you to answer honestly.”
“Okay.”
“Why are you putting up with me?”
“I know what pain does to people,” I say quietly. I’ve seen it in my brother. Pain and loss are hard to bear. I was too young to help my brother, but I can help Damon. “It can lead you to do self-destructive things.”
He lifts himself until he is at the same level as me, and so close I can count his eyelashes. “What if I’m already on that self-destructive path?”
“Maybe I can pull you back.” I watch the almost-healed lip and the still-black eye. He is on that path; I know it. “Would you let me?”
“You might be the only one I would, but I don’t think I should. I might end up pulling you with me instead.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“You shouldn’t. You should stay away from me.”
“You’ve said this before.”
“I’ll keep repeating it. Maybe you’ll eventually listen. To tell you a little secret, I hope you won’t.”
He runs his finger up my forearm once, setting my skin ablaze. He leans in a tad too close, so I inhale the smell of his skin and aftershave and lose my trail of thoughts.
“You’re so beautiful when you blush,” he says in a hoarse voice.
A slight shudder runs through me. No one’s called me beautiful before.
“I’m tempted to do this again and again just to see the flush on your cheeks. And your neck.” He looks at my neck with a dangerous glint in his eyes that undoes me. He could ask anything of me right now. Anything. I would give it to him. “Look at you,” he murmurs, as if just for himself. His gaze wanders further down from my neck, and though he doesn’t touch me at all, my skin burns. “Of course, you could just admit that you put up with me because I’m ridiculously good-looking, and I would stop teasing you.”
I shove him away playfully. It’s in moments like this that I don’t know if he’s flirting, playing, or doing something else entirely. “Get over yourself, Damon.”
Secretly, I fear I’m the one who won’t be able to get over him.