“The waitress. She’s into you,” I point out.
Damon looks around the diner for the waitress, like he can barely remember what she looks like. “Her?” He spots her. “Yeah, she’s cute. So what if she’s into me?”
“It’s just not like you to ignore a pretty woman. Especially if she’s offering you her attention.”
Damon puts the ketchup bottle down with a thud. A stern expression on his face. “You haven’t seen me in ten years. How do you know what I’m like?”
I shove the French fry in my mouth and chew, prolonging my answer. “A leopard never changes his spots?”
Damon isn’t amused by that colorful response. “You can believe whatever you want. I’m not a fucking leopard, and I’m not interested in any other pretty woman but you.” He picks up his burger and takes a bite. He’s clearly annoyed, and I’m clearly surprised.
I shouldn’t like that angry response, but I do. The question remains though, how long will that feeling last? A week? A month? A year? How long will it be before his eye starts to wander, and a pretty waitress in a diner gains his full attention?
I leave the conversation at that. It’s too late, we’re too tired, and I would rather not dissect what that reply really means. How truthful it really is. Damon has the power to break my heart, he always has, and I fear he always will. Unless I put enough distance between us to keep my fragile feelings safe. They’re already crippled from the loss of my father. One tormenting blow from Damon, and I’ll be emotionally paralyzed.
I eat without really tasting anything. I pay the bill, even though Damon argues with me, and we walk back to the motel in silence. Terrible, awkward silence.
“Would you mind coming inside?” I ask before we part ways.
He’s hesitant at first, but follows me through the doorway.
It’s dark in the room, and I can feel him shadowing me as I move to turn on the bedside lamp. He’s right there, in my face when the room illuminates in a horrific fluorescent glow. I don’t move. Or breathe. I just let him stand there, glaring at me.
“I’m inside.” He’s short. “What’ya want?”
I reach into my little black, crossbody purse and pull out the cash. “Here. I won this.” Damon’s eyes slide down my body to where my hand is hovering.
“I don’t want your money, Liv.”
“You don’t really have a choice. I’m giving it to you. I won it for you,” I shove it against his chest.
Damon doesn’t approve. I can tell this whole ordeal is weighing on his ego.
“You won it for us.” He closes his hand over mine. “We’re in this together whether we like it or not.”
Ain’t that the truth.
“Fine. I won it for us.”
Damon smirks pompously. “I thought you insisted there wasn’t an us.”
“Don’t twist my fucking words. You know what I meant.”
“Did I?” he ponders.
“Damon.”
He steals a kiss before I can stop him. I fight him at first, but it’s clear I’m weak when it comes to his lips on mine. I kiss him back like a goddamn fool. Sliding my tongue into his mouth for a greedy taste of him.
But that’s all.
Just a taste.
I end it when things get heated. When he’s grabbing my ass and grinding his growing erection against my abdomen.
“Enough.” I push him away and suck in air. “You need to go.” My heart is fluttering, and so is the excitement between my legs.
“Are you just saying that, or do you really mean it?” he confronts me.
