Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 92336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
I immediately looked over at Damien for guidance. Was his brother asking me to go out with him alone? Was he trying to take me out on an impromptu date? Was Damien going to let him? Did he even truly care, or was his anger tonight just a matter of their competitive natures?
I suppose a part of me wanted to find out when I said, “That sounds fun. Yeah.”
“Cool.”
Damien didn’t utter a word. He just continued to stare at me as he blew smoke rings.
I got up, straightening my shirt and gave my cigar to Ty. “I should shower and get changed, then.”
“Sounds good.” He smiled.
Jitters followed me all the way back to my apartment. What was I doing? I wasn’t even going to lie; it hurt me that Damien didn’t say anything when Ty asked me to go out. Not knowing exactly what I’d agreed to, I was left with an unsettled feeling.
I took a shower and slipped on a fitted, blue mini-dress. I blew out my normally wavy hair and put on a full face of makeup.
Letting out a slow nervous breath, I knocked on Damien’s door.
Ty opened and was dressed in the same jeans and black shirt he’d had on outside. He’d wet his hair down and must have sprayed on a fresh coating of cologne, because it was pungent.
The air was filled with tension and testosterone.
Damien was leaning against the kitchen counter. He was wearing the same dark jeans but had changed into a gray shirt that hugged his muscular chest. He was also wearing his beanie. I loved when he wore that hat in a way that his hair peeked out from the front. His sleeves were rolled up, showcasing his forearm tattoo. His angry glare was really working for me. It made me think back to his threat about angrily fucking me against the wall the night of my drunk messaging. He just looked so freaking good right now, and I caught myself forgetting why I was even here as I continued to stare at him.
Ty came up from behind me. “Ready to go?”
“Yes.”
Just when I thought Damien was going to let us leave, he began to follow us out the door.
I turned around. “I didn’t think you were coming.”
“I wasn’t going to, but I changed my mind.”
The three of us walked in silence to Diamondback’s, which was about three blocks away.
It was eighties and nineties music night. There was no band on duty tonight, just a DJ. 2 Become 1 by the Spice Girls was playing, and it totally brought me back to memories of singing that song in front of the bathroom mirror with my sisters.
Ty leaned in. “What are you having to drink?”
“You already know she likes white wine.” Damien huffed.
“Maybe she feels like something else.”
Were they being serious?
“A glass of Chardonnay would be fantastic.”
Ty went to get drinks, leaving me alone with Damien. It was a long and awkward three minutes until the DJ started playing Burning Down the House by The Talking Heads.
“If you weren’t standing here, I would’ve thought you told him to play that song, Damien.”
“Just a funny coincidence.”
I playfully nudged on his shirt. “I’m glad you decided to come out with us. I wasn’t sure if you were coming.”
“Well, someone’s got to keep tabs on him.”
“Tabs on him or tabs on me?” When he didn’t say anything, I added, “Your brother’s a really nice guy. You two are almost too much alike.”
“Neither of us is that nice. Ty’s my brother, and I love him, but I trust him with you about as much as I trust myself. And that’s not saying much.”
Ty returned with our drinks and handed me my wine before giving Damien his beer. “Did I hear my name?”
“I was just saying how similar you two are.”
After a few minutes, Diamonds and Pearls by Prince came on. Ty took the wine glass out of my hand. “I love this fucking song. Dance with me, Chelsea.” When I didn’t move, he said, “Come on.”
What the hell. Why not?
I let him lead me to the platform. His hand was on my lower back. Lights on the dance floor flashed around us. He wrapped his arms around me, and I placed mine around his neck.
As we swayed to the music, it became clear as day: even though this younger, debatably hotter version of Damien was expressing interest in me, I wasn’t feeling anything more than the cheap thrill of his body pressed against mine. It proved once and for all that my obsession with Damien was so much more than physical. He essentially had a clone who was actually showing romantic interest in me, and all I wanted was to be with the grumpy dude sulking in the corner—the one who repeatedly rejected me. I was somehow connected to Damien in a way that I didn’t even understand, connected to the way he made me feel, the way I knew he understood me, the way his heart beat for me.