Chapter 5

Laura

The pizza was cold now. I was not eating anyway.

Rick was on his phone again. He had been on it for the last twenty minutes. Something about a game. Something about bets. I stopped listening after the first five.

Damon was still by the window.

He had not moved much. Just stood there with his drink. Not drinking it. Just holding it. Looking out at the city like it owed him something.

Every few seconds I looked at him. I could not help it.

He was wearing a black sweater. Dark jeans. His hair was shining under the lights. Black. Smooth. Like he had just stepped out of a magazine. And his eyes. God. Those eyes. Dark piercing blue. They looked right through everything.

I felt them on me sometimes. When Rick was not looking. When the room got quiet. He would glance at me. Just a glance. But it felt like a hand on my skin.

I was losing my mind.

Rick finally looked up from his phone. "I have to go."

I blinked. "What."

"Jake needs me. Something about the bet. I forgot I promised."

"Now?"

"Yeah. You can stay if you want. My dad is here. It is fine."

He said it like it was nothing. Leaving me here. With him. Alone.

I should have left too. I should have said I have homework or I am tired or I do not feel well.

Instead I said "okay."

Rick kissed my forehead. That same habit kiss. Quick. Dry. He was already grabbing his jacket. Already walking to the door.

"Dad. Laura is staying. Do not be weird."

Damon turned from the window. His face was unreadable. "I am never weird."

Rick laughed. Kissed my forehead again. Then he was gone.

The door closed.

And the silence was loud.

I sat on the couch. My hands were in my lap. I was twisting my fingers together. Nervous. I did not know why. I had been alone with men before. This was different. This was Damon.

He did not move from the window.

"You do not have to stay," he said. His voice was low. Calm. Like he was trying not to scare a small animal.

"I know."

"Rick will not be back for hours. Probably not until late."

"I know."

"Then why are you staying."

I looked at him. Really looked. The way the light hit his face. The way his jaw was set. The way his eyes were watching me. Waiting.

"Because I want to," I said.

He did not say anything for a long time. Just looked at me. Then he walked toward the couch. Slow. Like he was giving me time to change my mind.

He sat in the chair across from me. Not next to me. Across. A whole coffee table between us.

"Your father," he said. "Does he know you are here."

"He knows I am with Rick."

"That is not what I asked."

I looked down at my hands. "No. He does not know you are here."

Damon nodded. Like he expected that answer.

"Laura."

Hearing him say my name did something to me. Something I did not want to name.

"What."

"We should not be alone together."

"Why not."

He leaned back in the chair. His eyes never left mine. "You know why."

I shook my head. Even though I did know. Even though I knew exactly why.

"I am your boyfriend's father," he said. "I am old enough to be your father. And I am not a good man. Not the kind you should be alone with."

"I do not believe that."

"Then you are naive."

That should have made me angry. It did not. It made me want to prove him wrong.

"I am not naive," I said. "I know what I am doing."

"Do you."

"Yes."

He stood up. Walked to the window again. His back was to me now. His shoulders were tense.

"Go home, Laura."

"No."

He turned. His eyes were darker now. Piercing. "What did you say."

"I said no. I am not leaving."

He walked toward me. Not fast. Not slow. He stopped right in front of the coffee table. Close enough that I could see the lines around his eyes. The grey in his hair that was barely there but I noticed.

"You are playing a dangerous game," he said.

"I am not playing anything."

"Then what are you doing."

I stood up. The coffee table was still between us. But I felt closer to him than I had ever felt to anyone.

"I am sitting in your living room," I said. "Eating cold pizza. Talking to you. That is all."

"That is not all."

"No. That is not all."

He stared at me. I stared back.

The room was completely quiet. I could hear my own heartbeat. I was sure he could hear it too.

"Tell me to leave," I said. "Tell me to go home. And I will go."

He did not say anything.

"Tell me, Damon."

His jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists at his sides.

"I cannot."

My breath caught.

"Because if I tell you to leave," he said, "I will be lying. And if I tell you to stay, I will be something worse than a liar."

"What is worse than a liar."

"A man who knows exactly what he wants and takes it anyway."

I felt it then. The heat. The pull. The thing that had been building since the fountain. Since the hallway. Since the first time his eyes landed on mine.

"I am not stopping you," I whispered.

He took a step around the coffee table.

Then another.

Then he was right in front of me. So close I could smell him. Something clean. Something expensive. Something that made my knees weak.

His hand came up. Slowly. Like he was giving me every chance to move away.

I did not move.

His fingers touched my chin. Just barely. Lifted my face so I was looking up at him.

"You have no idea what you are doing to me," he said.

"Then show me."

His thumb traced my lower lip. Once. Twice. His eyes were on my mouth.

"Laura."

"Damon."

He said my name like a prayer. Like a warning. Like a man standing at the edge of something he could not come back from.

And then the lights went out.

The whole house went dark.

I gasped. Stepped back. My shoulder hit the wall.

Damon did not move. I could feel him still there. Right there.

"Power outage," he said. His voice was calm. Too calm. "It happens sometimes in this neighborhood."

I could not see anything. Just shadows. Just the shape of him.

"Are you scared," he asked.

"No."

"Liar."

"I am not scared of the dark."

"Then what are you scared of."

I swallowed. "You."

He was quiet for a moment. Then I heard him move. Closer. His hand found my arm in the dark. His fingers wrapped around my wrist. Gentle. But firm.

"You should be," he said.

And then his mouth was at my ear. His breath was warm. His voice was barely a whisper.

"Because I am scared of me too."

I stopped breathing.

His hand was still on my wrist. His thumb was moving. Small circles on my skin.

"Tell me to step back," he said.

I did not.

"Tell me, Laura."

"No."

His grip tightened. Just a little. Just enough.

"Then God help us both."

The lights flickered. Once. Twice.

And then they stayed off.

And we were alone in the dark.

His hands. His breath. His voice.

I could not see him. But I felt him everywhere.

The power did not come back on.

And neither of us moved.