Hotline Fling

29: Ask Me Anything

Damian's POV

I expected June to be angry. Fuck, I was pissed off at my fast-fingered decision. Click-happy, irrational decision-making wasn't me, and signing that contract was not my proudest moment. Mental note: stop making dick-driven decisions toward this girl. I needed to be level-headed, figure out if there was something between us driving me to insane reactions, and then...I had no fucking idea.

The most pathetic aspect was how, deep down, I wanted to know June, or Juneau, deeper. All I knew about Juneau was superficial information any creep could pull up online. After the accident, I thought about her when visiting my parents. One month after I comforted her, her house was vacant with a 'For Sale' sign in the front yard. I never saw or heard from her again, but the experience impacted me enough to carry a reminder–and not Hernandez's damn handkerchiefs.

Now, I wanted to link June on the phone back to the person Juneau, so I could fill in the missing gaps. Once I was convinced she wasn't mad.

Me: You sure you're not mad?

June: Nope.
June: Still flattered.

Not that I didn't believe her, but I was disappointed in my slip-up of judgment. I would've understood if she screamed at or cursed me out. Fuck, I expected that reaction. Instead, she was flattered that it was me.

While we both agreed to get to know each other better, I was more nervous than a whore in church before our next call. I found myself, elbows on my desk, palms holding my sweaty forehead, and my heart pounding like I chased down a perp. Why would she be flattered by me? I was an asshole with closer connections to strangers than my family members. I'd had ten times more one-night stands than meaningful relationships.

"Night, Sir." Bryson knocked on my open door. "I left today's reports on Shirley's desk for tomorrow morning. You alright?"

"Yeah," I mumbled and scrubbed my hands down my face.

"Sounds more like a no." Bryson crossed his arms. "Same girl situation?"

I nodded and pulled on my coat. We walked in silence except for greetings on our way out. Wrapped in the cold night's air, he turned to me. "If you wanna get it off your chest, I'm a good listener."

"Who told you that?" I snorted at his choice of words. "Nurses at the hospital?"

A wicked grin spread across his face. "They'd probably vouch for my indiscretion. At least on patrol, you don't seem short for attention, but if you want, I can introduce–"

"That's not it," I cut him off with a raised hand. "There is someone. It's–"

"Complicated?"

It was complicated. We stopped at my bike, where I grabbed my helmet. Thankfully, the night sky hid the warmth that spread across my face. "I haven't met her before." Or, properly like a normal person. Beyond some form of embarrassment, how would I react to her in person?

"Like a dating site?" he asked with, refreshingly, no judgment in his voice.

I shook my head and chased the right enough words in my mind. "More like we've talked over the phone." That was one way to put it.

"Do you know what she looks like?" he asked as I swung a leg over my bike and rested my helmet in my lap. "Or think she's using fake pictures?"

"I don't think she's fake." I rubbed my chin, not ready to confess how fucked up I was with relationships. "Might be too good to be true."

That wasn't a lie. Given June's unlucky circumstances, she deserved to be jaded and angry at the world instead of sweet and caring. She might be the kindest person I'd not-met met.