Burning Moon (Wattpad Version)

Chapter 10

You know those 3D optical illusions? Those pictures made up of seemingly random patterns or dots that when stared at for long enough, with just the right intensity and at the right angle, a 3D image emerges out of the chaos? It’s usually a galloping horse, a biting shark or a bird flying towards you, or some other dramatic animal in motion. But once you’ve seen it, you can always see it and the random patterns never look the same again. 

That's what happened with Damian. 

He looked completely different today. Or was I seeing him differently?

He was still dressed in his signature black, but looked much more casual and relaxed. The sleeves of his shirt were shorter this time, and I noted that the tattoos on one of his arms crept all the way up to his shoulder. I’d never liked tattoos, I’d always seen them as a sign of Heroin dependency, excessive moodiness and a tendency to throw TVs into hotel swimming pools. But on Damian they were -- dare I say it -- sexy. As he turned around, I saw his T-shirt said 'Read books, not T-shirts'. I smiled to myself; that was so Damian. 

He’d also cut his hair. The sides were short, almost shaved, but the top was still quite long and messy. The whole thing looked lopsided, as if a small child had attacked him with a pair of blunt scissors. The haircut was weird and irreverent and wouldn’t have suited anyone else but him. By this stage his facial hair was more than just a five o'clock shadow, which only added to his dark mystery. His thick, black eyebrows accentuated his big, wide-set black eyes and I stared at him trying to figure out who he looked like.

But there was no one, his look was completely unique. It was gawky and shy, strange and weird, rebellious and naughty all at the same time. And right at that very moment, he looked dark and broody and dangerous. Now, normally I considered myself more of a ‘blonde and buff’ kind of girl. But there was something about Damian that was so…so…

Oh My God. He suddenly turned and looked straight at me, and I knew I had an embarrassing look plastered across my face. He waved tentatively, and I waved back. A moment later he was standing at my table.

“Hey... so, um... yeah, nice hair." What a stupid thing to say, and I mentally crapped on myself for doing it, but it was all that had come to mind. 

Damian smiled and ran his fingers through it playfully, twisting it and creating a kind of messy Mohawk. “The guy in the kitchen insisted.”

“Huh?”

“I’ve been washing dishes here, and he said it was too long. So he attacked me with scissors and a razor.”

I was confused, “Why are you washing dishes?”

“Need cash.”

“Oh, of course. I forgot about that.”

“I can’t, trust me. The image of that guy coming towards me with a plastic glove will be burnt into my brain forever.”

We laughed, and when it tapered off, I knew I had to say it.

 “Look... I’m really sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have screamed at you like that. I’m really sorry.” Our eyes met.

 “Me too. I shouldn’t have said that stuff about not getting married. I had no right to.”

We smiled in mutual acceptance of the apologies.

“Well…” He started turning away from me. “Enjoy your meal and the rest of your holiday.” And then he walked away. Just like that, he was heading for the door.

Anxiety gripped me; I’d lost him once today and I didn’t want to lose him again.

“Wait!” The word flew out at a volume that was entirely inappropriate for a public place; fellow diners turned and stared at me.