Stop Playing Innocent // COMPLETED

26 // Waistband

Sarcastically, he jokes, "If they're that good, why not show me them in my room?" 

Even though he was trying to be the most fuckboy-est fuckboy of all, I did actually want to show him the kind of music I liked. So thinking over his option, I say, "Sure if you're not too tired?"

He seems surprised and I can exactly tell he's questioning my own sarcasm versus honesty but agrees as well.

"Oh, okay then", he walks away, leaving the door wide open, "You never come into my room that often either way."

Taking my laptop along, I follow him into his room and sit down comfortably on his bed, happily searching through the hundreds of songs I had. But I'm stopped when I look up to ask Damon something but instead saw his toned back to me in front of his closet, as he smoothly took off his shirt and now stood in only jeans.

"Hold on there Dawson, why are you undressing?"

Pausing his actions, he weirdly looks at me and smirks.

"It's passed midnight", he explains.

"What do you mean?", I ask, "Is midnight like your Cinderella call for sudden horny-ness or something?"

Laughing, he put on the sweatpants of his I liked very much while I faced the other side and calmly walked towards the bed to lay down next to me, taking away the single blanket along on top of him. 

I watch him shift into a position where he faces the ceiling, the blanket doing nothing but cover only his lower body and closes his eyes, resting his head on folded arms behind his head.

After a long pause, I finally mutter, "Does this mean you are, in fact, a Disney princess?"

"No, it doesn't", he says, "But it's late, and tomorrow we both have school. So show me those songs of yours before I won't have energy left to listen to anything anymore."  

Would've been better if he was an actual princess

I hesitate but go along with it anyway.

I only ever got to show him three songs before noticing his 'wild' enthusiasm, consisting of three nods in total and a yawn, making me pause the music and turn back to face him.

"Damon?"

He messily runs his hand through his hair, "Hm?"

"Are you... alright?"

"Me?", he points at his chest, "Oh, yeah, I am, don't worry about it. It's nothing. You can carry on."

My fingers fidget on the bed from the urge to just reach over and touch him, hold him in some way to make him less exhausted, but I don't. I can, but don't. With my voice gentle like a mothers, I ask, "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better... as your so-called girlfriend?"

Thankfully for my courage, he heard me clearly. Without thinking much, he sits up on the bed and against the wall in a way that made it hard for me to maintain eye contact only with him - not his abs that were just there.

Then with arms open wide, quietly says, "Come here."

I shut my laptop close and move over to sit on his very welcoming lap. He takes me into his arms while I hold him in mine and it's an embrace I already know I'll never forget.