and speak to someone.”
“Sure honey,” she laughs. I don’t understand why she is finding this all so amusing. “The keys are hanging by the door.”
“Jan, this isn’t funny,” I hear my father tell her as I grab her keys off the hook.
“Just let her deal with it,” she responds , as I slam the door behind me. Jumping in her car, I take off to confront Damien. What game is this guy playing? I just don’t understand it. Why lead me to believe he’s been asked to protect me. This is just ridiculous, and I need to get to the bottom of it.
I pull up outside his building and stomp toward the entrance, continuing my stomping as I climb the stairs until I find his door.
“Damien!” I yell, thumping on his door with my fist. “Damien!”
“I’m coming. Hang on,” he calls from inside. “What is it?” he exasperates as he opens the door, water beading all over his body as if he’s just been in the shower… my mouth goes dry and my thoughts leave my mind as my eyes drag over him – to his hand as it clutches the towel about his waist.
“I… um…” I stammer.
“Jesus,” he hisses, grabbing me by the wrist and pulling me inside. “Just sit,” he commands, heading back towards his bathroom, pausing only to grab some clothes from his bedroom before he disappears back inside.
I sit at the small table, listening as he finishes his shower and berating myself for not being able to keep a hold on my thoughts around him.
As I look around, I start paying closer attention to his pin board, remembering that the first time I was in here, it was turned around and had a bunch of drawings on it.
Listening to the still running water, I twist the board around. The entire surface is covered with small pieces of paper. Some are lined, some are white, some are yellow and a couple are green or pink. It seems that it’s just been whatever has been on hand at the time and they’re all overlapping each other so you couldn’t possibly see each one without removing everything on top. On each piece of paper is a sketch. There’s no distinct theme, I’d assume he’s just drawn whatever has taken his fancy at the time. There are trees, chairs, hands, lips, eyes, people studying, people laughing, buildings, and at the very bottom – me…
“Seriously?” I say to myself, looking closer at the piece of lined note paper with my image on it. It’s picture perfect and shows me, laughing as I tuck my hair behind my ear. I can tell by the clothing I’m in that he drew this on Thursday when I was at the Uni Bar. How did I not see him doing this?
The clearing of his throat behind me, snaps me to attention , and I spin around to face him, feeling immensely guilty. “Why is there a picture of me there?” I demand immediately.
“If I wanted people to look at this, I’d have it on display.” He leans around me, smelling of soap and warmth as he flips the board back around.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” I whisper, leaning up against the wall – I kind of need it to hold me up right now.
He smiles, his hand resting just above my head as he searches my face. “Why did you come here?”
“I…” He’s too close to me. I can’t breathe, let alone think clearly.
“Do you need something?” he whispers, leaning close to my ear. His breath washes over me, causing my skin to prickle. I can’t help it, and I turn toward him.
My words, usually so important to me, have evaporated into the ether, and I can’t even remember what I was so annoyed about. All I want right now is him.
Softly, he brushes his mouth along my jawline, causing my breathing to increase as my heart thuds against my chest. My eyes flutter closed as my tongue sneaks out of my mouth, wetting my lips, wanting him to kiss me.
But as his lips travel toward my mouth, he brushes upward, skimming the corner and leaving me wanting. I whimper in response, turning my head slightly toward him.
“Henrietta,” he whispers. “Open your
“Sure honey,” she laughs. I don’t understand why she is finding this all so amusing. “The keys are hanging by the door.”
“Jan, this isn’t funny,” I hear my father tell her as I grab her keys off the hook.
“Just let her deal with it,” she responds , as I slam the door behind me. Jumping in her car, I take off to confront Damien. What game is this guy playing? I just don’t understand it. Why lead me to believe he’s been asked to protect me. This is just ridiculous, and I need to get to the bottom of it.
I pull up outside his building and stomp toward the entrance, continuing my stomping as I climb the stairs until I find his door.
“Damien!” I yell, thumping on his door with my fist. “Damien!”
“I’m coming. Hang on,” he calls from inside. “What is it?” he exasperates as he opens the door, water beading all over his body as if he’s just been in the shower… my mouth goes dry and my thoughts leave my mind as my eyes drag over him – to his hand as it clutches the towel about his waist.
“I… um…” I stammer.
“Jesus,” he hisses, grabbing me by the wrist and pulling me inside. “Just sit,” he commands, heading back towards his bathroom, pausing only to grab some clothes from his bedroom before he disappears back inside.
I sit at the small table, listening as he finishes his shower and berating myself for not being able to keep a hold on my thoughts around him.
As I look around, I start paying closer attention to his pin board, remembering that the first time I was in here, it was turned around and had a bunch of drawings on it.
Listening to the still running water, I twist the board around. The entire surface is covered with small pieces of paper. Some are lined, some are white, some are yellow and a couple are green or pink. It seems that it’s just been whatever has been on hand at the time and they’re all overlapping each other so you couldn’t possibly see each one without removing everything on top. On each piece of paper is a sketch. There’s no distinct theme, I’d assume he’s just drawn whatever has taken his fancy at the time. There are trees, chairs, hands, lips, eyes, people studying, people laughing, buildings, and at the very bottom – me…
“Seriously?” I say to myself, looking closer at the piece of lined note paper with my image on it. It’s picture perfect and shows me, laughing as I tuck my hair behind my ear. I can tell by the clothing I’m in that he drew this on Thursday when I was at the Uni Bar. How did I not see him doing this?
The clearing of his throat behind me, snaps me to attention , and I spin around to face him, feeling immensely guilty. “Why is there a picture of me there?” I demand immediately.
“If I wanted people to look at this, I’d have it on display.” He leans around me, smelling of soap and warmth as he flips the board back around.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” I whisper, leaning up against the wall – I kind of need it to hold me up right now.
He smiles, his hand resting just above my head as he searches my face. “Why did you come here?”
“I…” He’s too close to me. I can’t breathe, let alone think clearly.
“Do you need something?” he whispers, leaning close to my ear. His breath washes over me, causing my skin to prickle. I can’t help it, and I turn toward him.
My words, usually so important to me, have evaporated into the ether, and I can’t even remember what I was so annoyed about. All I want right now is him.
Softly, he brushes his mouth along my jawline, causing my breathing to increase as my heart thuds against my chest. My eyes flutter closed as my tongue sneaks out of my mouth, wetting my lips, wanting him to kiss me.
But as his lips travel toward my mouth, he brushes upward, skimming the corner and leaving me wanting. I whimper in response, turning my head slightly toward him.
“Henrietta,” he whispers. “Open your
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