"I think you're pretty darn decent. Definitely in the top 5 in my books, just after Batman." He always knows just what to say, but I'm not sure if I believe him. I'm no saint, that's for sure. I'm a sinner … you can even say I'm a killer. My past may disgust her. And that I won't survive.
"Son, I've never told you this in the past, but I think you should know. You know I have a history with the Blackburns."
"Yeah, you were friends with their father." He told me that once.
"Yeah, I caught each and every one of them at birth … including Mel," he chuckles.
"But, I was also the one who removed the arrow from Mel's arm that day." It was the day I helped them at the haunted house. He never told me that.
"I saw her wearing your team jacket and I knew she was someone special to you. I mean, you wouldn't give away the most important thing in your life just to anybody. So after I talked to John, I decided to send you to the same school, knowing that you would eventually find Mel there." I'm stunned by his confession.
"So all this time you are the fucking universe," I tease.
"Yes, I planned to set you up, but instead you became Logan's best friend … and yes, that complicates things. But if you truly feel what I believe you feel for Mel, it should not hold you back." I listen carefully.
"My advice would be to take it slow. And make damn sure what she is to you before you make your move? If you only want a fuck buddy you better walk away now. Mel is not some random floozy you can stick your dick in and Jackson will definitely kill you then."
"He's going to kill me either way," I laugh.
"Nah, if you're really sincere he'll just put you in hospital," he chuckles. "I can fix that. And you will maybe lose Logan for a while, but not forever."
He ends the conversation, leaving me to think about this alone. The ocean shimmers in the moonlight and you can make out the white foam of the waves.
Is my obsession with Mel just a sexual fantasy that will lose its appeal as soon as I fuck her, or is there something more to this, something deeper?
I don't know if this is true love because I don't know what that feels like. What I do know is that I've never wanted anything as bad as I want her. And I recon … if I can stay without sex for a good solid 18 months … it must at least be a little fucking real. Date = 10 September
Place = San Francisco (Paws and Claws Center)
POV - Damion
"What's your name?" I ask pushing the frat boy into the tree.
"Ben."
"Why were you following that girl?" His brows flip up to his hairline.
"Seriously?" he shouts out. "I'm a dude and she's hot." I eyeball him, scrutinizing his face for any sign that he might be the D man I'm looking for. He goes bleak and swallows.
"I'm sorry. I just wanted to get her phone number," I let go of the guy's shirt. He steps away from me. "Fuck. No need to go all psycho crazy, dude." His tough-boy image cracked, he puffs out his chest a little in the hope of regaining some pride.
"Are you going to beat up every guy on campus that looks at her?" Yeah. No. Maybe. I stuff my hands into my pockets and sigh.
"You're going to be busy then, 'cause she's one sexy chick." Suddenly I feel like going all neanderthal again, but I don't. He's right. He's the fourth guy in just an hour. And none of them had a D name. There was Tom, Charles, Brady, and now Ben.
Maybe following her secretly around and attacking every guy who looks at her funny is not the way to do it. But with little more than caffeine in my system, and this nagging fucking feeling in my chest region, that feels a hell of a lot like fear, I'm not the best version of myself right now.
Hell, I'm not even the best version of my normal fuck-up version. The best version of me is not easy to find … he's only appeared in little drips and drabs over the past eleven years.
"What are you doing here?" a familiar voice sounds up behind me. I put my hands on my face and gradually pull them down until they end up with prayer hands right under my chin. Shit. I'm busted.
"You're boyfriend is fucking crazy, that's what," the guy says and leaves with a snort and a very pissed face. I slowly turn around to look into Mel's judgy eyes.
"Eh … would you believe me if I said I'm thinking of enrolling?" I let loose a slow, badboy smile, that I know is potently sexy and always softens chicks' hearts.
"Not even a little." But this is Mel. Of course, it won't work on her. I scratch a sudden itch at the back of my head. Always tell the truth, I hear Mom's voice in my mind.
"I've been following you around these last couple of days." She snaps in a breath and crosses her arms over a green, man's cut, beefy T, and what looks like a black crop top underneath. The glimpse of silky tummy skin peeking through the wide-cut sleeves is making my mouth water for a taste. She always makes my mouth water.
"Okay, I'll pretend that's not creepy at all and ask why?" The skin-tight black spandex short looks like it's painted onto her, highlighting the delicious curves of her hot-as-shit ass. And as part of the male species, I notice there's no outline of any underwear visible - so I'm sure she's going commando underneath.
Here she is, standing cross-arms in front of me, looking a little bored and a lot pissed, while all I can think about is getting into those erotic little pants. Where there are no panties. Just warm, wet flesh. I sweep a hand over my eyes. Fucked. I'm so fucking fucked. And stone hard.
I need to steer my perverted mind away from any dirty thoughts. I want her to see me as something more than just a fuck-boy. Multiplication. Eight times five is ….
"Damion," she hisses when I don't answer. Look, I'm a great multitasker, but … forty … doing math, standing and breathing, while being hard, and trying to think straight is a great accomplishment for any man. "WHY?"
Yeah, dude, why?
Eight times six is … I think about being brutally honest and telling her that she manages to do what no one else can do - she terrifies the shit out of me … or at least, thinking that something might happen to her scares me half to death. But sometimes a half-truth is better than a whole.
"I'm trying to find that D guy who sends you the messages." It rolls right off my tongue. She pulls her eyes into a line as if digesting whether to believe me or not. Shit, she's beautiful when she's uptight.
Forty-eight. Eight times …
"You know about him?" I guess she doesn't remember much about that night. What she said, how adorable she was, or how she slept in my arms - I left before she woke up. But I remember every little detail.
"Should I not?" She pulls her mouth tight. I know that pull. She hasn't told her brothers. Typical - she doesn't like them interfering. She is the most independent, most gutsy, sexiest woman I've ever met. And stubborn as shit.
She switches her weight from one leg to the other, pushing her hip to the side. For the life of me, I can't pick what part to focus on, so I form a little loop - legs, ass, tits, face, tits, ass, legs - repeat. It's fucking heavenly torture. Eight times nine is …
"And your great plan is to follow me around and grab every guy in my vicinity and ask if his name starts with a D?" Now that she says it out loud … it seems a little bit over the top. But when it comes to her, my thoughts are never normal.
"Well, not exactly … I ask them their names, not what it starts with." She gives me a long look I can't even begin to interpret. Or maybe I'm just not willing to read the very clear that's-so-fucking-dumb expression. But it's she that makes me dumb. Okay, that's not totally true … I've always been prone to do stupid things. I just tend to do it more when she's around. Seventy-two.
I begin to doubt my rushed plan. I just need her to be safe. I can't face losing another person … especially not her. Eleven times eight is …