“I was in your room. Without permission. And…” I pause moving in more, but when I turn to look at him, I’m fully aware of how close we are.
In this moment, the room shrinks and everyone around us fades away.
God. He is stunning. The slight slant of his dark eyes brings out his hard features so well. Almost like they add to the dramatic sharp edges of his chiseled jaw.
He breaks first, trying to create space. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I just don’t want you to think I’m a hang-around or something.”
“You’re nothing like them,” he tells me pushing his plate away, to make room for his thick, tattooed forearm.
My focus falls on his hand. The one with the butterfly. I noticed it the other day while he sat at the bar. It was a shock, but the more I glance at it, the more it brings an odd comfort over me.
I reach behind my ear, grazing the minuscule size butterfly inked onmyskin. Sure, butterflies are a common image for a tattoo, but then why does it feel so special sharing it with him?
He looks down at his plate not noticing the touch to my ink. I wonder if he’s seen it. The butterfly tattoo. After my parents passed, a friend from college tattooed it on me. I guess at the time, it meant freedom. Not from my parents, butforthem. Flying high in the sky in hopes they were looking down at me from above. Hoping they’d be proud. Can’t say if they saw me now, they’d feel the same. I wouldn’t want them to know about the pain I’d endured. The suffering. In a twisted way, I’m glad they aren’t here to know about it.
“Dani, can you make paper airplanes?” Chloe asks, holding out a clean napkin for me.
I swallow then glance down at her holding the paper. My father used to call me Dani. Hearing it again stirs a thick emotion inside me.
With a smile, non-forced, because hearing it warms my chest, I take the napkin from her and start forming the shape of an airplane. After I’m done, I hand it back.
“Woah. Yours is way better than Uncle Bullets.”
I chuckle catching a playful look of betrayal from across the table.
Bullet scoffs out a chuckle. “Shiiiii—I mean, shoot. You’re right, kid.”
Chloe studies the well-formed shape of an airplane in her hands. “Can you teach me how to make one? I don’t know if I can do it.” The doubt that forms in her eyes breaks me. It’s not about making a paper airplane, it’s much more than that.
“You can do anything you want to, Chloe. You just have to believe in yourself.”
She looks up at me and smiles. I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince. Me or her.
I quickly grab my fork poking a piece of food on my plate as my body ignites from the penetration of Hush’s stare. Pretending that his gaze doesn’t affect me, I shove scrambled eggs into my mouth. And never pay him another glance.
FOURTEEN
Danika
The Fallen Star is slammed. Busier than last time. But to be fair it is a Friday night and people are looking for a good time. Jules is glowing in the same black dress I helped carry for her yesterday. It flatters her baby bump so well as she sports a banner across her body reading: Bride-to-Be.
All the girls are here. Angel in her satin deep purple dress and Tequila in lavender. Both hugging their bodies like a second skin. Even Lucy’s dressed up behind the bar. For me, I decided on something a bit more subtle. My black skinny jeans are paired well with an off-the-shoulder sweater. Tequila did insist I borrow her wedged heels which I must admit look hot with this outfit. My long-added curls flow over my shoulders and down my back.
Right now, I’m all right. Any unwelcome nerves or fear are barely noticeable, and I hope it stays that way. Large crowds are never a great idea for me. But this is me working on my shit. Getting back to who I was. The outgoing me. The social me. And dammit I crave to have that confidence back so badly I can taste it.
When I scan the room, the guys are playing pool, joking around with beers in hand. Charger laughs at something funny next to Jules. I scan the room again and my gaze lands on Hush who is already staring at me from across the room. My heart threatens to beat out of my chest. It’s a burning look of curiosity. As if he’s trying to understand me, trying to figure me out. Only, there’s nothing to figure out. I’m a broken mess who, at this point, is terrified of her own fucking shadow.
With him leaning against the back wall, and his arms crossed over his chest, it’s the same intensity as lightning powering through us. With so much pull, it becomes alarming. I’m unable to look away until he finally does and the sparks flicker out. There’s a tight feeling inside my chest, but I suppress any irate feelings that swirl around before I do something I might regret. Like go over and talk to him.
Music thumps, bouncing off the walls around us. Jules dances with Charger but has to sit just after a brief time.
“What’s your poison, Danika?” Angel asks as Lucy comes to take our orders.
Shit. What do I prefer? If I was asked back in college, I’d have said whatever the strongest drink was. Now? Now I want to keep a clear mind to prepare for the worst-case scenario. I can’t protect myself if I’m wasted.
Jesus. I really am a broke ass mess.
