Damon’s [POV]
On Monday, I show up at school with more bruises. Every single teacher assures me that if I need support, I can always come to them. They tell me they understand. Like hell. I tell all of them as much, occasionally adding a full-on swear, so they know I mean it.
Thursday, the principal asks me what I think of shrinks. I tell him it’s my honest opinion that every teacher in this school, himself included, could use a visit to one. The old man loses it. He all but throws me out of his office, which gives me a brief sense of satisfaction, then guilt, because I promised Dani to behave.
Today, as I prepare to leave for school, I’m determined to keep my promise. Something about disappointing her makes me uneasy.
I’m almost at the front door when George says from behind, “I’ve spoken with Principal Charleston this week already.”
“Oh, what a tragedy.”
“I didn’t bring you here to cause me trouble.”
“What did you expect? An obedient and respectful son? Then you’re more delusional than I thought. You ignored me and Mom for the past seventeen years.”
“Look, boy, if I hadn’t brought you here you would be in a group home right now.”
“I’d prefer that.”
“Then walk out. Go on. Ignore your mother’s last wish.”
“You’re a jerk.” Mom’s last wish was that my father should take me in. I should give him some credit for having shown up at all and taken responsibility for me. But then I remember how my mom had to work day and night in the most miserable jobs, which led to her having a stroke at the age of thirty. Thirty. My beautiful, kind mother was defeated so young. She was unable to move on her own or read or write. Sometimes, she mixed up days, and sometimes, in the middle of a conversation, she would forget what we were talking about.
Near the end, she frequently forgot who I was, too.
The doctors said such powerful strokes sometimes lead to premature dementia. But my mother was young; I was sure that couldn’t possibly apply to her. I kept hoping she would get better. The opposite happened. She became a shadow of herself, her condition deteriorating with every passing day. We couldn’t afford to care properly for her, so her deterioration was even quicker. He never helped. No, credit is the last thing he deserves.
“Where are you disappearing every weekend, returning like that?” He points at my bruises. When I don’t answer, he continues, “If you get into trouble, don’t expect me to get you out of it.”
“I don’t. I’ve spent seventeen years getting myself out of trouble. I’m proficient at it.”
“At the moment, you are only getting yourself into trouble. Principal Charleston also told me you spend a lot of time with the Cohen girl.”
“That’s right. I do.”
“I told you to stay away from her.”
“I never agreed.”
“You will agree. My deal with her father is too important to let you fuck it up.”
“Is that all you care about?”
“What exactly do you pretend? To piss me off?”
“My spending time with her has nothing to do with you.”
“So, what, you have a crush on her? Look at yourself; for her good, leave her alone. You’ll just fuck up her life.”
“Oh, yeah, like you fucked up Mom’s life?”
“Exactly like that.”
I curse loudly on my way out.
I curse at school. Part of me is afraid I will fuck up her life. Sweet, innocent Dani… Whose presence is an inexplicable cure to my anger; a breath of air when I feel like I’m drowning. Her laughter makes me feel something I never thought possible after the funeral: relief. The ground has been shaking beneath my feet since Mom died, and I only regained balance when I met Dani. She makes me face my pain and fight it instead of masking it with anger. This girl can undo me with just a look from behind her large, round eyes. She bites her lip so innocently, not knowing what it does to me. Seeing her blush makes me hard. Thank fuck she can’t tell, but I’ve seen how she looks at me.
I’m already treading a fine line, and if I keep this close to her, I will snap and kiss her. I’ll do much more than kiss her. Damn it. I wasn’t a catch before, and I sure as hell am not now when I’ve turned into the literal dark version of myself. I have no future and no aspirations except to break out of this prison and never come back. There is nothing I can bring Dani except trouble. I’ve dealt with that my whole life. I know how to live with it. She’s grown up in a glass ball, and I won’t be the one to break it.
Of course, for that, I’d have to stay away, and I can’t.
Dani’s [POV]
Damon avoids meeting my eye the entire morning. I corner him after Biology, once everyone has left the laboratory, and it’s just the two of us left.
“You should avoid me today,” he says when he sees me approaching.
“Friends don’t avoid each other in bad times. Something happened today to make you extra moody?”
“I fought with George,” he offers as an explanation. “We do a good job of avoiding each other usually.” He watches me intently, and I see his resolve to avoid me today weaken with every passing second. “Let’s grab lunch,” he says eventually.
“After dissecting a frog?” I say skeptically. “No lunch for me today.”
He grins. In a fraction of a second, he’s behind me, slinging his arms around my waist. He pulls me so close to him that I can feel the rippled muscles of his stomach against my back. My knees take on the consistency of rubber.
“I can skip lunch. Let’s do something else,” he says in my ear.
“Like what?” I hold my breath, waiting for his answer. When none comes, I begin to panic. Then he lowers his hands, lacing his fingers with mine.
“This feels good,” he says, burying his head in my neck. “Do you want to be friends, Dani?”
“Aren’t we already? Don’t you want to be friends?”
“I do want to, but you shouldn’t be friends with someone like me. I’m no good for you. You’ve known me for a few weeks, and you’ve already done something you’ve never done: got detention.”
“There is a first time for everything,” I say.
“What are you doing to me?” he asks in a whisper.
“What do you mean?” I ask, puzzled, checking whether I’ve stepped on him. “I’m not doing anything.”
“You have no idea,” he says, raising our interlaced hands to my waist and squeezing me tighter to him. “I can’t stand being here right now.”
“Then let’s go.”
“You want to skip school?” There is a mix of humor and sadness in his voice.
“We might be able to return before lunch is over. If not, Trig is right after lunch. I’ll be glad to skip it.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“I know what you need to let off steam.”
I lead him to the stone pathway across from the main building. We walk for about ten minutes before we come to a halt in front of a one-story hall where the Olympic Basin is.
“We are skipping school on school premises?” he raises an eyebrow. “Why is no one around?”
“Because access to the basin is restricted to those training for swimming competitions.”
“So, we’ll be trespassing?”
“I have the key,” I say.
“How come?”
“My detention is to prepare this place for the girls to be able to start their training next week. We’ll only be half-trespassing.”
“Is there no one inside?”
“Nope, trust me.” When he doesn’t look convinced, I add, “You know, for someone who shows up bruised every Monday, I thought you’d be more adventurous.”
“I just don’t want you to get into more trouble, that’s all.”
“I won’t.”
I unlock the door with sure hands. Inside, we pass the supplies room, and then we arrive at the pool. It was filled with water yesterday.
“You should swim. Swimming always helps me let off steam,” I say.
His hands are in his pockets, and his lips curl into a smile as if he’s laughing at a private joke.
“Do they have bathing suits in the supplies room?”
“Oh.” I slap my forehead. “No. There are towels and thirty-five different types of equipment for training. But no bathing suits. Well, this is a failure. We might as well go get some lunch then.”
“No way. I’ll swim but under one condition. You swim with me, too, and we’ll be skinny-dipping.”
I pad back, my throat suddenly dry. “What?”
“You heard me.” A smile plays on his lips as he throws his jacket on the floor and starts unbuttoning his shirt.
“I’ve ne-never done this before,” I stammer, looking away.
“Weren’t you just saying earlier there’s a first time for everything? I won’t look when you undress. The water will cover you in the basin.”
I raise an eyebrow. “The water is transparent.”
“Lucky me.” He takes off his shirt and in a fraction of a second, heat pools low in my abdomen. I also register a tattoo running all along his right arm. I bite my lip, turning away, afraid he might tell how much I’m burning for him. Oh, God, if I react like this just by seeing him without a shirt… Just hearing him undo his belt and unzip his jeans makes the heat spread inside me. When a soft thump resounds, I’m almost swaying. Did he just drop his boxers?
“You can look, you know,” Damon says. “I give you permission.”
Despite myself, I do peek at him just as he’s entering the water. His back and butt greet me. I gulp. He must work out a lot. Every muscle looks sculpted. I wonder how it would feel to touch them. Abruptly, he swirls around, and I’m rooted to my spot. I take one glance down at his shaft and hyperventilate.
He laughs. “So you are looking. You are a bad girl, Dani. You like what you see?” he asks cockily.
“You’re not bad,” I mumble.
He frowns as he lowers himself into the water, and I sigh with relief as more and more of his body sinks in until only his shoulders are visible. “Compared to who?”
“What?”
“You said I’m not bad. Compared to who? Who have you seen naked?”
“No one. Turn around, so I can take off my clothes.” He starts swimming and I hurry to undress and get in the water. It’s freezing. Trying very hard not to think of how Damon and I are both naked, I swim for fifteen minutes, then stop, out of breath.
“You’re good,” Damon calls. I startle, covering my boobs and lower lady parts. “Any chance I’ll get permission to look at you?”
“No,” I say in panic. I turn to swim again, but Damon grabs my arm. Warmth seizes me low in my body. “I can’t touch the bottom; I need my arms to keep myself afloat.”
“I’ll keep you afloat.” He turns me around, sliding one hand along my thigh, pulling it up around his waist, all the while staring intensely at me as if waiting for me to pull back or say no. He draws in a sharp breath as I hitch my other leg around his waist, and then I feel his hands on my ass. My. Ass.
“You have such a sweet little ass.” His voice comes out in a growl. I cover my breasts with one hand, but I know it’s too late; he has seen them already. He moves his hands to my back.
“I don’t remember giving you permission to look at me.” I’m aware that despite my embarrassment, I’m not doing anything to move away.
“I’m not asking for permission anymore. I’ll ask for forgiveness later. I suggest you don’t move lower, though. Or you’ll see just how excited I am about this.”
“What do you mean? Oh,” I say, squirming in shame as I realize. “I thought… um… isn’t cold water supposed to be an antidote to… um… erections?”
“Cold water stands no chance against a hot, naked girl in my arms.”
“I’m not hot,” I say before I can stop myself. He blinks. “Well, I’m not. I have no boobs or hips.” I bite my tongue. Why did I just tell him this? Nothing screams turn-off like a girl with insecurities. I remember reading this in one of Mom’s magazines.
“I’ll call you out on that.” His hands slide from my back to my hips. “You have beautiful hips. And breasts,” he says. I flush, wondering whether he would touch my breasts, too, if I weren’t covering them. “I took a good look at them. And if you doubt me, you only have to slide a little lower. You are beautiful, Dani. Don’t you dare think anything less of yourself?” I nod then run my hand over his tattooed arm. I don’t understand the symbols, but they look pretty.
“I like your tattoo. What does it mean?”
“It’s made of symbols for strength in several cultures.”
We’re very close. So close I can gauge my reflection in the drops of water on his cheeks.
“You’re cold. Let’s get out,” he says.
Getting out makes me feel even colder. I dry myself with towels and then get dressed, my teeth clattering. Damon, already fully dressed, also looks cold. I sit on a dry towel on the ground, rubbing my arms to warm myself up.
“You’ll be warm in a minute,” he says, sitting just behind me, wrapping me tightly in his arms. Maybe because we were naked earlier, this feels very intimate.
“You feeling better?” I ask.
“Yes. Much better. Thank you for coming here with me today.”
“You seemed to need it desperately.”
“It’s like since I moved here, I can’t breathe. Except when I’m with you.”
I melt in his arms, and he buries his face in my neck. First, I feel his breath at the base of my neck, and then his lips. He moves them gently on my skin. The tension building inside me is anything but gentle. It makes me want to dig my fingers into the ground… or his skin, pulling his lips even closer to me.
“Do you like this?” he murmurs.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“So do I.”
I stay in his arms as he continues to plant little kisses on my neck. Shuddering, I try not to acknowledge the heat between my legs, but I fail. It gets so unbearable, I don’t know what to do with myself. Finally, he unhitches his lips, and I can think straight again. My body doesn’t recover, though; the slight tremors continue, and he’s trembling, too.
“I lied to you earlier, Dani.”
“About what?”
“I don’t want to be your friend. I can’t be.”
“Oh.” I duck my chin, disappointment washing through me.
“If I were your friend, I wouldn’t fantasize about your lips, kissing you, and doing a whole lot of other non-friendly things,” he says. My breath catches, my body liquefying in his arms. “Do you agree?” Damon asks. I lick my lips, thinking hard of what would be an appropriate reaction. When nothing comes to mind, I give a quick nod. His fingers trail up under my chin, caressing me, and then slowly turning my head to him. He moves a notch further to my side until we can look at each other.
“First time for everything, right?” I ask, swallowing hard.
A rueful smile plays on Damon’s lips. “Right,” he answers. I close my eyes, every nerve in my body simmering with anticipation. His lips settle onto mine, warm and soft and full. Ever so slowly, his tongue pushes my lips open, sliding inside my mouth. When our tongues touch, my veins fill with liquid fire, burning with an excruciating intensity. Damon coaxes my tongue with his-an invitation to a dance that is unknown to me, but one I am eager to discover and learn. I barely move my tongue in the beginning, afraid I might push him out involuntarily. Eventually, I pick up Damon’s rhythm, allowing him to guide me. He cradles the back of my head with one hand, making me whimper with emotion as he deepens the kiss. It’s so wonderfully delicious; that I forget to breathe. When we break off, we are both gasping for air.
“Dani,” he whispers hoarsely. I tug with both hands at his jacket, beckoning him to kiss me again. His tongue trespasses my mouth again without hesitation. Desperation grips both of us. I feel it in the way his hand shoots up, entangling in my hair. I feel it in the way my legs yearn to hitch around his waist again, like in the water. The unspoken need crackles between us and Damon lifts me off the floor, pulling me into his lap. When we stop the kiss this time around, we laugh, our foreheads pressed together.
“I’ve been dying to do this since we were in the water. You taste even better than I imagined,” he says.
“Why didn’t you kiss me in the water?”
“We were both naked. It was too dangerous.”
“And this is safe?” I smile, pointing to our telling position.
“This is perfect.” He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear then wraps his arms tightly around me. “You’re cold,” he adds, taking off his jacket and putting it around my shoulders. Something about his gesture tugs at my heartstrings. A conflicted look grips his features.
“What’s wrong?”
“Dani, I don’t want to make any false promises. I’m no good for you.” The timing of his confession isn’t lost on me. Right after our first kiss. I take the cue all right: I should have no false hopes, and harbor no romantic dreams.
“I disagree,” I say in a trembling voice, fixing my eyes on the top button of his shirt.
“I don’t have anything to offer to you, any set future. Any future at all. I assume you have big plans, and I don’t want to stand in your way. You’ll go to college. I don’t plan to. The minute we graduate, I’ll go as far from California as possible.” I remain quiet, feeling my eyes burn, praying I won’t tear up. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
Cupping my cheeks with both hands, he utters words that fill me with hope like nothing else could. “I’ll do my best. You mean more to me than anything else in my life right now.”