DAMIEN
The small pebblemakes a satisfying tick against Ophelia’s window. I grabbed a handful from the neighbour’s front garden on my way here, car parked along the road as usual.
I’m still wearing my tux, overdressed for what I’m planning, but the outfit I picked for Ophelia is perfect for the occasion.
Another stone. Another tick off the glass.
The window slides open and Ophelia’s pale face appears, hair loose around her shoulders, all mussed and lovely. Even from down here, I can see the confusion etched across her brow.
“Damien?” Her voice is hoarse from sleep. “What are you—”
“Get down here, Snowflake. We’re going out.” I hold up the dress, letting the streetlight catch the shimmer of sequins.
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“Astute observation. Now hurry before I wake the neighbours.”
She leans farther out the window, her new glasses impenetrable in the darkness. “We agreed on Wednesday.”
“This isn’t about sex.” A combination of words that feel strange in my mouth. “I’m taking you on a date.”
Ophelia stays put and I can practically hear the gears turn in her head, searching for whatever angle I’m working.
“A date,” she repeats, flat with disbelief.
“You know. That thing normal people do before they fuck.” I give the outfit another shake. “Now are you coming or do you want me to climb up there and dress you myself?”
She disappears from the window. For a moment I think she’s ignoring me, going back to bed, and irritation prickles under my skin. Then there’s movement behind the glass, her shadow crossing the room.
I meet her at the back door, passing her the dress so she can change out of her sleep shirt without anyone else perving.
Her head tilts as she scans my outfit, and I shoot out my arms, adjusting the cufflinks for the full effect.
“I’m not going to change while you’re watching.”
With a heavy sigh, I turn on my heel. “Fine. Come meet me at the car when you’re done.”
When I get in the driver’s side, the familiar, corrosive itch beneath my skin dissolves into the liquid heat of anticipation. A sensation only Ophelia ignites.
Five minutes later she emerges from the side gate, the silver dress sparkling in the moonlight. It fits her perfectly. Short enough to show off her legs, tight enough to hug the curves I’ve memorised with my hands.
Her new glasses complete the ensemble and there’s a special rightness in knowing everything she wears is what I’ve bought her. I reach across to open the passenger door.
“Get in.”
She hesitates on the curb; arms hugging her torso. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere loud.” I gun the engine. “Somewhere you can stop thinking for a few hours.”
That gets her moving. She slides into the passenger seat, and I pull away before she can change her mind. This late, the streets are almost empty, and we’re soon taking the tunnel across to Lyttelton, emerging into the steep hills edging the harbour.
Ophelia keeps fiddling with her seatbelt. “You agreed to organise these things beforehand.”
“I told you. This doesn’t count towards our total.” I glance at the profile of her face, delicate against the looming portside petrol tanks through the window, shipping containers stacked into metal mountains. “Consider it a bonus round.”
“Nothing with you is ever a bonus.”
I laugh, resting my hand on her knee. “Fair point. But I promise there’ll be no sex tonight. Scout’s honour.”
