"Blair, did you just tell me you've never been kissed before?"
My throat goes dry as I sheepishly look back to Damon, shifting in the seat that was turning cold. "No, I haven't."
Expecting him to be looking at me in disbelief or laughing even, he...
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After agreeing to Damons offer, I trailed behind him to wherever his car was parked. Looking down as we walk, seeing our feet leave foot prints in the frosty dusting on the ground. His prints are much bigger than my own. I tried to step within the markings of his steps. Since his legs are way longer than mine, I had to take bigger strides to keep up. Accidentally my body bumped into his back as he halted abruptly in front of me to fish out his keys. An apology was muttered under my breath though I was embarrassed.
It eased me in the slightest since it was true- he was a cab driver. The bright yellow cab looked beaten up and it makes me wonder how long he's been a chaperone. He clicks the beeper unlocking the doors. My fingers wrap around the handle of the door to hop in the backseat- but a duffle-bag and what seemed to be laundry was there.
"Sorry, I have shit in the back. Sit in the front." Damon ushers, coming to the other side of the vehicle to open the passenger door for me. I look at him over my shoulder, he waits expectantly for me to sit. I step in, sitting on the black leather seat. On the sun visor was Damon's license.
Studying the card, it read's Name: Damon Joseph Salvatore. Sex: Male Birth-date: 12/8/1994 Weight: 163lbs Height: 5'10 Eye color: Blue Hair color: Dark Brown In the photo he wore a black tee shirt like he was now. His hair was a bit longer then, but still undeniably handsome.
The cars interior was clean for the most part. Especially for a man. He must keep it up to company standards for customers. But it smelled like cigarettes masked with men's cologne. A scent which I didn't necessarily mind. Actually, the smell was oddly comforting.
"Car's nice." I blurted to fill the silence. "Even though it has a little bit of that tobacco smell." He looks at me and chuckles. His long fingers reach for his pack, taking out a cigarette and placing it between his teeth. I couldn't stop myself from staring at his mouth as the stick hung loosely from his lips.
"Do you smoke?" he asked, offering me one from his pack of Marlboros. I shake my head, "No, but my mom did."
He turns the key into the ignition and the car roars into life. "Did she quit?" he continues the conversation while sparking his lighter to ignite the end of the cig. I purse my lips into a tight line.
"She... died. From cancer." I say slowly, my throat suddenly becoming dry at the mention of my mother and her death. Damon's eyes widen with guilt, immediately putting out the cigarette as if he's offended me. He reaches over the console to bring his hand over to rub soothing circles on my knee. The action made me flinch, but surprisingly I became less tense from the comfort it gave me. His large digits were warm; I felt it through the material of my leggings. He didn't keep his hand there for long, probably not wanting to seem creepy. Drawing it back to put both hands on the steering wheel.
"I'm sorry,"
I knew what was coming. A sympathy speech. Before he could finish his sentence, I stop him from saying more.
"I don't want to make this a pity party, it isn't anybody's fault. It was a long time ago and I can't keep beating myself about it. So please, Damon. Let's change the subject, yeah?" I rush avoiding eye contact with him. I felt bad for reacting like that to a stranger. It's everyones initial reaction to information such as death to show compassion and consolation. I just really don't want this New Years to go like every other since 2008. Mourning over my parents death. Crying myself to sleep while everyone celebrates. Damon didn't retaliate or look at me in any disapproving, strange, way. It's almost like he gets it. Like he understands what I'm going through.
The ride was quiet from there. I directed him like a personal GPS, routing him to get to my house and only speaking each time he had to turn. Apparently he doesn't live that far off from me, maybe we had unknowingly been in the same place at the same time before tonight. After all, it's a small town. He tells me he used to look at the decorated houses with his parents when he was younger. I wonder what his family is doing for the holidays and why he was out in an alley and not out celebrating with them. I chose not to ask, remembering him shouting profanities and kicking over trashcans.
"Take a right on Marie." I pointed at the street sign when we approach my block. I could see my house from the distance, glowing with our yearly decorations and the inflatable Santa swaying slightly and beginning to be covered in snow.
"We actually... We were on this block." Damon says with an unreadable expression as we come to a stop in front of my childhood home.
"You live here?" He asked in disbelief. I nod my head. "Yeah, this is my parents house. Why?" Confused on why he seemed so shocked at the fact that this is where I live. Possibly because of the effort we put into our home on the holidays.
"I.." Damon's voice faltered at the sound of a marimba ringtone. He reaches into his pocket for his phone and pauses for a moment while he reads the screen.
"Happy New Years, Blair."
My smile weakened then faded completely as he waved his cellphone screen at me, showing the alarm he had set reading 12 AM. It's officially New Years. Today at about this time, my father was shot. Not by someone, but by himself after finding out my mother had passed away in the hospital. I swallow hard, looking up from my lap to look straight ahead blankly. Blinking back the tears threatening to fall from my eyes.
