Ilookupatthe ceiling. It’s snow white and seems infinite. The bed I’m on is white too, white bedlinen, the softest of cotton. It feels like I’m floating. I feel heavy and light at the same time. I’ve come down now, but my body still twitches involuntarily now and again. Damon is lying next to me. His breathing is shallow and aside from the time I told him I was gay; this is the longest he’s ever been quiet in my presence. I let my head fall to the side and I look at his face. He’s looking up, too. Maybe he’s still floating. His profile is perfect. Sharp cheekbones and protruding Adam’s apple cut into the softness of the rest of his features and make him what he is; scarily beautiful. Hauntingly perfect. My singular obsession.
“Do you want to hear something gross?” I ask.
Damon perks up, propping himself up on one elbow as his eyes start to sparkle with animation. “Always.”
“I think I…” The words dry up in the back of my throat and my heart clenches with nerves. I want to say it. I want to hear myself say it, but I can’t find my voice.Fuck, why’s this so hard?I take a breath and try again. “I think I like, love you, or something.”
He collapses onto the bed, nestling his head into my shoulder, shaking uncontrollably with laughter. As he does it, his body softens against mine. It softens and softens until he’s the softest he’s ever been, and he’s perfectly molded against me.
“I think I like, love you, too,” he says when he recovers.
“It’s the worst, huh?”
“The absolute worst.”
“It’s pathetic.”
“Yes,” he agrees, “pathetic and very inconvenient.”
“It’s unprofessional, that’s what it is.”
“Mm,” he nods against my shoulder. “So unprofessional.”
“I mean, I pretty much fucked up the biggest job of my life because of this whole love thing.”
“That’s embarrassing, Joey. You should be super ashamed.”
“Oh, believe me, I am.”
“Wanna hear something even more embarrassing?” He continues without waiting for me to reply. “I pretty much loved being a victim of kidnapping for ransom for this very reason.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry man. That must be hard to live with.”
“The feelings are one thing. They’re shit enough on their own, but there’s all the physical stuff to deal with, too.”
“Do you mean the horniness?” I ask.
“Nah, I’m well aware of how hard the horniness-stick hit you, Joey, I’m talking about the heart-palpitations and all that crap.”
“Oh, God, yes,” I agree, infinitely relieved that he feels the same way. “The heart palpitations are the worst. I get them all the time. When I see you…”
“When I think about you…” his voice trails off.
“When I hear your voice…”
“When I feel you watching me…”
“Fuck, it’s terrible. It’s like taking a massive shot of adrenaline straight to the heart.”
“Mixed with nerves…”
“And fear and excitement…”
“And a little dread,” his eyes light up and he gives me a sweet, sadistic smile.
“Oh yeah, we can’t forget about the dread.”
“No. Even if we wanted to, we couldn’t forget about the dread.” He’s quiet for a while and then looks at me, reaching up to stroke the scar on my brow. “Do you get this thing where you can’t stop thinking about me?”
