Reading

Dani’s [POV]
I spent Friday afternoon daydreaming and texting Hazel every detail about the kiss. Normally, I would have waited until Saturday morning to tell her about it, during our weekly yoga class, but since she won’t be back from her trip until Monday, texting will have to do. She’d kill me if I kept this to myself for so long.
On Saturday, I end up doing two yoga classes and only arrive home mid-afternoon. Of course, no one is home except the cook. She heats me food, and I eat a very early dinner in the kitchen with her. She tells me my parents are in San Francisco, attending a charity gala. They didn’t mention it to me at all, but I’ve long since given up trying to keep up with their social commitments. I decide to read after dinner but find myself daydreaming about Damon again. I run my fingers over my lips, remembering how it felt when he kissed me. It was so surreal; I’m almost afraid I imagined it. He makes me pulse with life. When he looks at me, it’s like he can see right through me. The fact that I haven’t heard from him since yesterday is starting to worry me. I drag myself to the wall of books in my bedroom, trying to decide what to read. My phone buzzes with an incoming message. My stomach jolts. The sender: Damon.
“What are you doing?”
“Reading,” I text back fast.
One second later: “Any plans for tonight?”
My stomach jolts stronger than before. “Other than more reading? No.”
“Want to go out?”
I read the words over and over again, excitement dusting all over my skin. “Is it a date?” I want to type more, but I see the little dots indicating he is writing, as well. I wait, my heart hammering.
“You’ll be the judge of that.”
My stomach sinks. “Is this about the fact that you’re not good for me?”
“It’s exactly about that.”
“I have no reason to believe you.”
“I’ll give you one.”
After a long pause, the little dots indicating he’s writing appear again. “Can I pick you up at eight?”
“Yes. What’s the dress code?”
“Casual.”
***
I stare at my closet for about thirty minutes, making a mental inventory of everything I own before I accept that I have no appropriate item for tonight. I have jeans, hoodies, and T-shirts with my favorite bands, but I have nothing to wear on a date. God… everything about Damon is too much. I drag my hands down my face. I like being near him too much, laughing and talking to him. I like the way his green eyes bore into mine, making my skin tingle with heat. If he were to disappear from the face of the earth tomorrow, I’d be devastated. It’s a strong word, but it feels like the right one. That’s when I realized how much trouble I was in.
What’s a girl to do when her closet fails her? The answer for most girls my age would probably be shopping. But since it was my nerdtastic taste in clothes that led to my poorly stocked closet in the first place, that’s not a smart move.
I have a much simpler solution: breaking into Mom’s closet. I’ve only been in it a few times before, but it’s the size of my bedroom. I’ll find something appropriate. Thankfully, Mom doesn’t like to own up to her age, so most of her clothes look young. I hear my parents’ car pull in and then a screaming match blowing up downstairs. When I was young, I used to play a movie at maximum volume when they started fighting, but now I can block their voices out all by myself. I’ll just have to be extra careful when I leave so they don’t see me.
I end up with a nude-colored dress with straps. It’s not extremely short, but it’s tight. The exaggerated cleavage makes me blush. I feel naked in it, so it must be right for a date. I put on some peep-toe sandals and a light jacket and sneak out. Not the easiest task, because both Mom and Dad are downstairs. I told them I’d go over to Hazel’s tonight, which is a risky move since she isn’t in the country. If they see my clothes, I’m in trouble. Mom pushes me to dress differently, but I have a hunch she won’t appreciate my stolen outfit. Once I get past the front door, my muscles loosen a notch. I only allow myself to take a deep breath after passing our humongous garden and the front gate. The relaxing moment only lasts a few seconds as the realization that I’ll be meeting Damon in about two minutes kicks in. I managed to stave off the nerves while I was preparing, but now as I approach our meeting place, all the jitters come back with a vengeance. When I reach the junction where Damon is supposed to meet me, he’s not there. This doesn’t help the jitters in the slightest. I pace on the pavement, chewing the inside of my cheek, and rubbing my sweaty palms on my flimsy dress. Maybe he’s changed his mind. A motorcycle roars from the distance, approaching with a mind-bending speed. I shake my head. I’ll never get their appeal. For me, they are nothing more than death on two wheels.
When the motorcycle stops in front of me, I am speechless.
When Damon descends from it, I catch my breath. Removing his helmet, he just stares at me, his lips parted, his bright green eyes wider than I’ve ever seen them as they travel over my body.
“You have a motorcycle?” I ask at the same time he exclaims, “What are you wearing?”
I become ten times more self-conscious than I already was, trying to cover myself up. “You don’t like it?” I murmur, looking away.
“It’s… Well, you… I didn’t think you owned something like that.”
“I could say the same about you,” I say, gesturing at the motorcycle.
“Is it that surprising? I have a bad attitude and tattoos, and hate everyone in California except you. Is a bike that much of a surprise?”
I grin. “I guess not.”
“But nothing about your Linkin Park t-shirts led me to believe you might own something that shows your boobs and ass at the same time. You usually hide both.”
My cheeks are on fire. “It’s not my dress,” I mumble. “It’s Mom’s.” She looks better in it.
“Dani, don’t misinterpret what I’m about to say, okay?” Damon takes a few steps, stopping in front of me. He puts his hands on my shoulders. “You look stunning. But you can’t come with me dressed like this.”
“Why not?” I challenge. “It’s… casual.”
“Jeans are casual. This is hot. I would never object to that, but where we’re going tonight… it’s not a good idea. And you’ll freeze on the bike. Go change. I’ll wait for you here.”
“I can’t go back. My parents will see me.”
A smile crosses his lips. “You snuck out? They don’t know you’re out?”
“They think I’m at Hazel’s. I can’t make it inside without them seeing me.”
“Dani…” His eyes are pleading.
“We should go. We’ll be late.”
He frowns and then unzips his black leather jacket.
“What are you doing?” I ask suspiciously.
“Making sure you won’t get sick.” He holds his jacket, motioning for me to put it on.
“But then you’ll get sick.”
“No, I won’t. Come on, no argument.”
Obediently, I let him put the jacket on me and zip it up. He then proceeds to put the second helmet he has with him on my head. I feel like a small child, but I relish being taken care of. He shows me how to mount the bike. He sits first, and then I do, right behind him.
“Hold on to me tight, okay?”
I sling my arms around him, my fingers resting on his chest. I can feel his rippled muscles under my fingers. Moving closer to him, my thighs come to rest next to his. My dress slides up my thighs, revealing bare skin. Damon’s hands, which were hovering a few inches in the air, probably preparing to make sure my thighs were sitting right, froze in mid-air. I quickly readjust my dress, but there seems to be a sudden something looming in the air. It fills the few inches of space between my chest and Damon’s back. It makes the skin on my thighs tingle.
I bury myself in Damon’s jacket. It smells of aftershave and him. The smell invades all my senses, luring me toward unchartered sensations. The tingle on my thighs transforms to heat. As Damon revs the engine and I hold tighter to him, I find the courage to say something I never would have if we were face to face. “So I look stunning, huh?”
He chuckles. “Oh, you do. That’s not good, seeing where we’re going, but I’ll take care of you.”
I keep my eyes shut the entire time we’re on the road. I’m freezing, but smiling. I still think the bike is a death machine on two wheels, but I find a redeeming point: I get to be closer to Damon than I ever hoped. As I cling to him for dear life, I tune out the sound of the wheels speeding and the wind blowing through my flimsy dress, pondering something he said earlier. I hate everyone in California except you. This fills me with both elation and sadness. I resolve to find a way for him to feel happier here. Living in hate is awful. Hating others eventually leads to one hating life itself. Look at my parents. Of course, my parents only hate each other, but they do so with a passion that has turned them both to stone.