"This is my friend Hailey," Daniel introduces me casually.
Daniels father is the same height as him and looks much like an older version of his son. He has few streaks of grey in his hair, giving him a professional edge, and even his regular clothes look neat and sophisticated in some way. I'm assuming as a software architect he's used to a business suit, or is that just my imagination? Facial features are quite similar to Daniels, strong jaw, prominent cheekbones, blueish maybe green eyes, and the same charming smile. "It's nice to meet you, Hailey. I'm George, Daniels father."
I try to match his kind smile. "It's nice to meet you too. Sorry for my. . ." I peer down at my pajamas and George finds this amusing, but in an 'adult' way, the look where their eyes almost squint as their smile grows, maybe a little eyebrow-raising too.
"Don't worry, we're pretty casual around here," he waves me off. "What are you two up to?"
Anxious from a lack of an answer, I am thankful when Daniel takes over. "Just hanging around. Nothing specific."
"Alright. I know it's Friday, but Mike has to get up early for a flight, so if you don't mind keeping it down."
Daniel nods. "No problem."
I stand beside him, wondering what George must think we're up to. It almost brings a blush to my cheeks, embarrassed by the thoughts I am imagining for him. Keep it down? Keep what down? What have I gotten myself into?
George begins to drift away. "Well, we're off to bed. It was great meeting you, Hailey. Please, make yourself at home."
Awkwardly, I struggle to answer. "O-okay, thank you. . . Sir," I call as he is entering the hallway off to the right side. He then disappears and I look to Daniel who says nothing before walking further into the house, and I trail behind him, wondering what we are going to do. "Where are we going?"
Daniel stops in front of a door and glances back at me while opening it.
It's his bedroom.
My mind flourishes with curiosity, maybe a similar feeling he felt before he explored mine. I wander through as he follows behind, my heart racing. Daniel leaves the door open—I am thankful for that—and he watches me closely as I drift around. I can feel his eyes on me, a rope tied, keeping us together as I venture further into the unknown.
There are not many personal things in his room. There is a picture of two women, one young and one older—I am assuming his mother and sister—and his backpack is set against a dark-wood dresser. His track bag is there also, and there is a shirt pooled on his bed, also a pair of black, lace-up shoes at the foot of his bed. It is like a scavenger hunt; find all the sentimental items, the t-ball trophy, the family picture at the lake, the lucky hat, maybe a love note.
I turn to him. "I was expecting—"
"A mess?" He asks, and I roll my eyes.
"No. I don't know. Maybe." There is a large window on the right wall from the door that shows part of the backyard. "Your Dad seems nice. He's probably wondering why I'm here at midnight, but he seems nice."
I peer out and see a small garden and a rectangular pool. Everything is neat, modern, and sleek, probably like his father.
"He's a good guy," Daniel says and sits down on the edge of the bed.
"Does he know about your secrets?"
"No. Why do you ask?"
I look back again, away from the dresser and the photograph to Daniel. "I'm just wondering."
"Does your mother know about your secrets?"
I pause for a moment. "No, she doesn't know about the whole teacher thing." Before he can lead off to a subject I very much do not want to talk about I ask, "What do you think your Dad would say if he knew that you, well, worked for a bad guy?"
Daniel's eyes wander off to the side. "I don't know. He'd probably just want to know why." His eyes find mine again, but unlike before, they make this moment feel more intimate. It is just us, in his bedroom, talking about things only we know. I like this.
"You said it was to get your anger out," I say, not knowing where I am going with it. Then I continue, "Why were you angry? What made you that angry?"
My feet slowly take me towards the bed, where he sits, and I stand before him. I should be scared of this, being in his bedroom alone. My heart should be racing, I should be panicking, my hands should be balled into fists while I sloppy throw together an excuse to leave. It shouldn't be like this. I'm vulnerable, and his Dad is asleep, and we're in his bedroom, and—
"So now you ask all the questions?" Daniel dodges my question and looks up at me with that stupidly handsome face. Every time I really focus on it, I come to reality and wonder how someone like him could want me in his bedroom.
I can't help it, all of us can't. We bring ourselves down by trying to make these gorgeous boys understand. Why can't they understand that they could do so much better? That there are just as gorgeous of girls dying to be with them? They don't have to settle. They don't have to be with someone like me. I can't help it. I'm sorry for this, self.
I sit down beside him, mentally drained from all that has happened tonight. My tired head must not realize the suggesting action of sitting on a boys bed with said boy who happens to kiss me sometimes.
Like I said, I should be scared of this.
"Thanks for saving me from that situation at my house."
When he doesn't answer right away, I glance up only to be caught in one of his traps. Daniel leans down, but this time I shy away from his lips, from the wonderful kiss I know we would have had. "I told you. You can't keep doing that."
"Why not? Do you not like it?"
It's things like that—do you not like it—that make me squirm. Of course I like it. Of course I want more. He asks in that way, the way that tells me he knows this, that I can't get enough, and he teases me for it.
My cheeks are red and I shield this from him, hiding that fact that on the inside, no matter what happens to me, I am still a girl who blushes at such things. "It shouldn't be like this," I murmur. "I shouldn't feel like I do right now, in this situation, with you, in your room, on your. . . I shouldn't. . ."
"Why won't you let yourself be comfortable with me?" Daniel asks, and by the way he does, I can tell he's thought about this before. "You feel safe with me, but you won't admit it to yourself."
"But I can't feel safe with—"
"Why else are you here right now, Hailey? You wouldn't be sitting here if you didn't."
I bite the inside of my lip, not knowing what to say. Why am I here? Because I like being with him. He makes me feel normal, and maybe it is happening too fast, but I'd rather feel better than wake up from nightmares of it again. I'd rather be here than at home with my mother and that man. I'd rather be here than anywhere else right now. Daniel makes me feel like a girl again. Blushing. Kissing. Crushing. And sometimes this frightens me.
The fact that I need Daniel is a feeling I didn't expect to develop.
"Fine. I feel safe here, with you. I know you're not like him, that you would never. . . I know you wouldn't hurt me, and it's weird to feel like this again, so don't hurt me, please. If you did, I don't know if I could trust anyone like this again—like how I trust you right now. So you're right, I feel safe with you, but don't give me a reason not to."
Sorry for the break, it was a little longer than I thought it was going to be. But I'm back! I'm planning on an update tomorrow, but just in case, it may be Tuesday to start up again everyday.