{if you've got a girlfriend I'm jealous of her, but if you're single that's honestly worse, 'cos you're so gorgeous it actually hurts
Gorgeous - Taylor Swift}
Chapter 25 - Bloom
I sat down with an 'ooof', feeling suddenly so tired that all I could think of doing was laying down in the middle of my front yard and waiting for the earth to swallow me and make use of my nutrients.
But I couldn't, because even though Warren had upped and left, Damon was still here, standing just a few feet away and looking down at me slumped on my doorstep.
"So," he said, one corner of his mouth tilting up into a smile. "You love me?"
"Wha-?!" I sputtered, looking up at him like he'd just puked out a cabbage patch doll. I ignored the constricting feeling in my chest. "Are you delusional? No way!"
Damon laughed, a throaty chuckle that made my stomach knot uncomfortably. His crystal-like eyes had lost their hardness, as if his good humour had melted away any tension left from before. His smile, of course, was as blinding as ever.
The fact that I couldn't look at him for longer than a few measly seconds was ridiculous. Annoyed, I forced myself to maintain eye contact, to the point of coming off as slightly manic as I stared him down. He stopped laughing, long enough to match my unblinking gaze with his own doleful one.
"I'll try not to let that bruise my ego," he quipped, smirking. I rolled my eyes.
"I wish you would," I shot back, irrationally irritated by his relaxed demeanour. "Might do it some good."
He smiled, but this time it didn't quite reach his eyes. He looked serious, but stayed quiet.
After a minute of painful reflection - on my part at least - I let out a tired sigh and struggled to my feet.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I could really go a block of chocolate and a month-long power nap on the couch." I brushed myself down, turning to head inside only to pause once I'd reached my front door. I looked back over my shoulder at Damon, who was watching me with an unreadable expression.
"Um," I said, feeling awkward under his unwavering gaze and trying not to show it. I couldn't think of something normal to say. "Did you want to, um, maybe come in for a cup of tea or something?"
Damon raised an eyebrow, a smile flitting over his mouth.
"'A cup of tea'?" he repeated, running a hand over his hair as he struggled to keep a straight face. "You don't happen to have anything a little stronger, do you? Like some rasberry cordial, or maybe chocolate milk?"
He was laughing at me, and even though I knew he was only teasing I felt my hackles rise up.
"Well, I'm sorry that I don't know what beverage is acceptable for this kind of situation. Seeing two men try and rip each others throats out isn't exactly a normal day for me," I turned on my heel, stomping my foot like a four year old as I ransacked my bag for my house key. "If you want to drink yourself into oblivion, there's a pub just round the corner. Go nuts."
As I unlocked the front door, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from spitting out more nonsense, I glanced back at the blonde-haired boy who was still standing in the middle of my lawn. I inhaled deeply, holding my breath for a moment before letting it out.
"Did you want to come in or not?"
I could sense Damon hesitate behind me, and when I finally graced him with another glance it was to see him shaking his head.
"Thanks, but I should probably get going," he met my eyes for a second before looking away. "It's probably for the best."
I thought I would be relieved that he wasn't staying, and a part of me was; but inside, I also felt a small stone of disappointment sink to the bottom of my stomach at his rejection. I didn't particularly want him sat in my living room, sipping tea and making small talk about the weather – but it felt weird to just let him go.
Damon didn't seem to notice my silence, seeing as he was already halfway down my drive, and as I watched him leave he suddenly spun back around, making me straighten up a little in the doorway.
"We're okay though, right?" he called back to me, nearly knocking me clean off my feet. "I mean, you're okay? You're not gonna put my name at the top of your 'hate-list' after today?"
I couldn't formulate a reply, instead just stared at him with my mouth gaping open like a goldfish. By the time I managed to get my head to even nod, he was off, strolling down the drive and out into the street looking like an earthbound god bathed in the burning light of the sinking sun.
In that moment, I cursed the English language and my brain for failing me in my time of need.
**
"It's just so great," Lucy mused, flipping through some magazine on my bed with her legs propped up on its headboard. "I'd love it if two guys fought over me. Or anyone, really. A bit of bloodshed's a good way to start off the day."
"It's really not," I mumbled through pursed lips, trying not to mess up my freshly applied moustache cream. "All the romance books have been selling us a lie. It's not hot, it's scary. It's not a display of love and devotion, it's a display of male hierarchy and wounded pride. I'd much rather leave all fighting up to the fiction writers."
"But you don't understand," Lucy stressed, rolling over onto her stomach to look at me properly. "It's not that common for people to get stuck into it over a girl. Not around here, anyway. So the fact that it's Damon of all people who's brought out the knuckledusters to defend you is just....shocking."
"Why is it that whenever we talk about this, you always sound completely bamboozled over the idea of someone possibly liking me. Like, I get it to an extent, but seriously, I'm not that bad."
"Don't be stupid, of course you aren't," Lucy said impatiently, brushing off my wounded expression to zero back in on the topic at hand. "It's just that it's Damon Smith. Damon Smith, for pity's sake! There isn't a single person around here who doesn't know who he is, or hasn't heard word of his reputation - we all know he isn't a walking advertisement for love and commitment - more like a love doctor teaching boys how to 'use 'em and lose 'em'. So why has he suddenly done a back-flip and started messing around with his playboy image? Did the two of you work out a new deal or something?"
"Uh, not exactly," I said slowly, trying to appear occupied by the bleaching instructions so that she'd take the hint and move on. A part of me felt it was wrong to tell Lucy what Damon had confided, even though she was my best mate and had proven her trustworthiness time and again. But it just seemed so bizarre, so unlikely that he could even see me like that, that I felt as if I said it out loud it would break the spell.
Lucy, on the other hand, was having none of my vague answers.
"What? What is it? Did he say something to you?"
"Urgh, kind of," I began reluctantly, clambering to my feet and heading into the bathroom to check on the progress of my top lip. Lucy was hot on my heels.
"Anna, what did he say?"
I picked up the tiny plastic applicator and shovelled back a portion of cream, before dunking my face under the faucet to clean my skin of the tingly chemicals. The whole time I was doing that, Lucy was hovering mere inches from my face, twitching and huffing impatiently, waiting for me to finish.
Once I'd re-emerged from under the running water and was feeling around for a towel, she saw her chance and jumped, snatching the cloth out from under my searching fingers and taunting me with it from the doorway.
"You can dry your face once you've told me whatever it is that you're hiding. Now spill."
I glared at her, water dripping down the front of my shirt and onto the floor.
"Did you ever think that I might actually want to keep this one thing private, for myself to know only?"
Lu scoffed. "No. There is no such thing as privacy in this friendship. Spill."
I sighed, exasperated, before sinking down onto the edge of the bath. After a moment, I divulged the impossible to her, and waited to see what her reaction would be.
"He...actually likes you?" Lucy said slowly after a beat, looking cautious. "As in, genuinely likes you?"
"That's how I interpreted it," I answered, shrugging. "He's a pretty straightforward guy, so I assume that when he says he likes someone, he means it."
"I mean, sure," she agreed thoughtfully. Suddenly she looked over at me, dubious. "And you're sure that's what he said right? He didn't say 'I like cubes' or something and you just misheard him?"
I sent her a flat look, but she just raised her hands defensively.
"Sorry, but this is insane. Who would have thought that that player could actually develop feelings for someone? For you. But I mean, come on, why wouldn't he? And it does explain a lot, like why he keeps defending you instead of just letting you get lynched by the mob like usual, and why he stood by your side when Warren decided to wreak havoc on your weekend. He must have a crush on you."
"But then when I asked him to stay yesterday, he just left! If it's really true and he does like me, then why wouldn't he want to stay?"
"Firstly, you didn't ask him to stay, you asked him if he wanted a cup of tea. That's hardly a tempting offer for a guy who just tried to beat up your ex. And secondly, he may very well have wanted to drink some tea with you, but couldn't because he had somewhere else to be. So stop stressing and just see what happens between you and him on Monday."
"Oh god," I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "I hadn't even thought about tomorrow! That's it, I'm done, fineto. They're gonna take me down like hungry lioness's on the Serengeti. And then eat the evidence."
"Don't be so dramatic," Lucy scolded, taking a seat on the toilet opposite me. "Remember, one word from Damon and they won't even look at you. He did it for you once before, remember?"
"...Yeah," I agreed absently, too busy running through every possible scenario that could unfold tomorrow when I slink through the school gates first thing.
It was Lucy falling off the toilet lid that managed to get my full attention. I looked down at her sprawled on my bathroom floor, surprised.
"You aright?"
"I think I know why he left!" She gasped, looking like she was about to self-combust from excitement. I crossed my arms, unimpressed.
"You fell off the toilet because of that?" I clicked my tongue, leaving her hyperventilating on the bathroom tiles and plodding my way back into my room. I could hear her frantically trying to get up and follow me.
"Think about it," she shouted, before crashing through my doorway a second later. "You said that Damon dropped you off in his car, yeah? And then he drove back to give you your wallet?"
"That is correct," I said slowly, eying her as she paced back and forth in front of me. "I'm pretty sure he parked further up the street."
Lucy shook her head.
"And yet as far as you could tell, he left on foot? Did he leave in the same direction he came from?"
I shrugged. "I guess so. Why?"
"Think about it," she commanded brusquely, coming to a stop by my window and peering out. "If Damon walked off in the opposite direction to where you thought his car was parked, then he clearly had an ulterior motive. And who else Anna, just minutes before, had left your house and headed off in that very same direction?"
It took a moment for it to sink in, but when it did, I gasped.
"Warren!"