One Direction- I Wanna Write You a Song
Sabrina Carpenter- Why
Shawn Mendes- Something Big
Hope's POV
"Dad, he's just a friend," I explain for the millionth time.
"Where did you say you met this guy?" We are in the Private Study and his eyes are focused on the stack of papers sitting in front of him.
"I met him at the mall a long time ago. We're pretty close actually," I lie. If my dad finds out that I met Damien at a party, he will never allow me to go on a date with him.
"And how long have you known each other?" His eyes are still scanning the pages.
"I don't know, almost a year?" I lie again. "Dad I've never been on a date my entire life. Can't you just let me have fun? You want me to wither old and single?"
"If that's what it takes to keep you safe."
I scoff. "Dad, he's harmless. Besides, I can take care of myself."
"Bring him to the White House for a date. Could be romantic." His eyebrows are raised, his mouth turned into a frown in a suggestive manner, as he shrugs.
"Will you let me close the door at least?" I say sarcastically.
"Of course not."
"Dad!"
"Dad!" He mimics before laughing. "If you won't let me do a background check on him, you can't have that date."
"Sure. Makes sense. I can go have fun as long as my dad invades his personal business and I get to know about his Great-Great-Grandfather before the first date!" I say, exasperated. "Besides you would've never done that before you became president. You would've gave me the benefit of the doubt. Do you not trust me?"
"Background check or SSAs."
"Fine. Sean and Reynolds, only."
"Don't forget Andrew and Liam," He adds.
"You know it's a romantic setting, right? How do you think 4 grown men can blend in?"
"A double date. What's anyone's business?" He writes down something on the piece of paper before a call comes in. He holds up a finger at me before picking up.
"Yes?...Great. What time is the Senate hearing? Where are we with the nominees?... Okay, give me a full report within the hour... Yeah give me an update in ten minutes. Thanks, Mark." He hangs up. Mark Nolan is my dad's Chief of Staff and long time best friend and mentor, as need be with that kind of job. The most powerful occupation in America behind the President is the one he listens to, which would be the Chief of Staff.
"Where were we? Oh, we were talking about your Secret Service Agents going on a double date."
I think about that for a moment before laughing. "You know what? Let's do that. So I can torment them with it for the rest of their lives."
He laughs along. "I'll order them to propose to each other. That way it really sells it."
I snicker. "They're gonna be pissed as hell."
***
I am on my way to the 24/7 restaurant with a stupid grin on my face. It is midnight and my dad has arranged with Terrain Tops to only allow Damien, the agents, and I only. The roof will be empty which is perfect for me. I just hope he doesn't suspect anything.
It's been three weeks since I gave him my number and it's been a week that we started calling each other every second of the day.
I find myself ditching hours of sleep to talk to him only to fall asleep in class. But I didn't mind. Damien is someone I relate to in a weird way and he really understands me. He also never fails to lift my mood. My mind plays over our last phone call and how he was making me laugh with terrible pickup lines he found on the internet. As late night phone calls increased, my feelings for him began to grow. I notice that the only times I don't have nightmares is when my friends are sleeping over, I'm way too tired, or when I fall asleep to Damien in my ear.
We had tried to schedule several dates, but I knew I had to slowly keep talking about Damien to my dad before even bringing up a date or he'll never let me go. For all he knows, he would've guessed Damien was a complete stranger.
Not that I would've told Damien that. Instead I just gave him excuses which leaves him to keep accusing me of playing hard to get.
But It's easy to pretend with him. Somehow he have no clue who I am, who my father is (I've gathered that he at least know the name of the president but he has no interest in politics) and I want to keep it that way. If I'm complaining, to him it's a normal and average girl complaining about a snarky comment that her father's guest whispered over their shoulder or being forced to behave like a queen among politicians that probably had no interest in you anyway. Not the daughter of the United States' president who whined too much. I was even able to tell him that I met Justin Trudeau's wife backstage at a WE Day event (although I couldn't mention that her husband met with my father the following week. However, I didn't fail to mention how handsome Trudeau was).
He didn't know the other life I had and it felt good to pretend that it doesn't exist.
And now that I was finally able to convince my father, despite having to bring SSAs, I couldn't help but feel exhilarated. I've never been on a date before and I can't help but feel a little excited but also nervous.
Damien had picked the location, claiming "You'll never refuse a date again after going out with me." It was a somewhat-fancy new restaurant a little distance away from the White House. My dad unnecessarily sent assistants to check on the status of the kitchen and their ingredients. He wants to "make sure my daughter isn't being fed poison."
One of the agents who had checked the restaurant personally told me to order the Oreo milkshakes ("Best milkshake I've ever tasted") and that the caesar salad is amazing. She knew salads are my religion and so she had made sure everything was fresh for me.
I smooth out my knee-length white dress as I hide a smile. "Can I please take pictures?"
"No." All of my SSAs reply in unison.
I snicker. "Please? How many SSAs have been on a date on the job? This is the perfect story to tell your future kids. Of course none of them will believe you unless I document the special moment for you guys."
"If you take any pictures, I'll forget my job and leave your ass on that roof," Sean threatens.
"Then maybe Damien can take me back to his place." I was clearly joking but Reynolds is shooting me death glares.
"Joking, joking," I explain, laughing. I shrug before adding, "Maybe." Just to test his patience.
"We're here," Andrew says before Reynolds can cause emotional damage.
I climb out of the car and dramatically clap my hands in excitement just to annoy them further. I love teasing them.
"Welcome Miss Hope." I am greeted at the entrance of the door with a bow. Embarrassed, I smile at the 20-something year old waiter, and walk inside flanked by my security detail.
As soon as I step on the roof, I am greeted by another waiter.
"Would you like anything to drink, Miss Hope?"
"Nothing for now. Thank you." Even though it isn't a big deal, it's still weird to be called that. Or to receive special treatment. A year ago I was a nobody and now strangers are treating me with respect.
I take the seat closest to the door. My securities, however, waste no time in ordering. As soon as the waiter leaves, I take another seat that is close to the railing of the roof. Circular bars are lined up on the edge to prevent anyone from falling and it provides an amazing view of the neighborhood filled with streetlights below. String lights are strung all around the terrace and since that's the main source of lighting, it gives off a romantic setting.
I'm getting nervous by the minute so I walk over to the securities in hopes of a distraction. I pull out my phone.
"Question. What's a waldorf salad? And the menu says here that they have popcorn shrimp salad. Anyone tasted that?" I ramble as I discreetly take pictures of them. My dad would love these.
"No I don't think anyone has ever heard... Hey!" Liam, the only one who has not stuffed his mouth with a burger and has actually acknowledged me, tries to grab my phone.
I move it away just in time. "Too slow. Who hired you, dude?" I laugh and run back to my seat before they force me to delete the pictures.
"I'm hacking into your phone and deleting those," Liam threatens through a mouthful of food.
"I don't think you have authority, sir," I sarcastically retort.
We exchange a few banters before I allow them to breathe away from my annoying behavior.
I text Damien to tell him that I've arrived. He lets me know that he's on his way.
Eventually the waiter comes and serves me a glass of water and hand the securities the milkshake I told them about. I gulp some water hoping that it can calm my nerves. It doesn't.
The waiter reappears several minutes later and asks if I want anything. I inform him that I'm waiting for someone. He gives me a sympathetic smile.
Minutes go by and I turn down the waiter yet again. I'm fidgeting in my seat and I check my phone again. He hasn't replied to my last message.
It's been about thirty minutes.
Without warning, my eyes start to burn on the verge of tears. I can't believe he stood me up on our first date. Thank goodness the roof is empty except for security because it would've been even more humiliating than I feel right now.
How could I've been so stupid?
Taking a deep breath, I gather up the courage to walk towards the SSAs who have ordered their meal and a second round of milkshakes.
"He's not coming." I pretend as if I'm not offended. "Let's go after you guys finish that."
At that moment the door opens and Damien saunters onto the roof on long, black-clad legs. The knees of the jeans are cut and he's paired it with a white shirt.
My heart skips a beat. "Hope?" His eyes are drawn in confusion as he takes in my position in front of 4 grown men. On a date.
I take a shaky breath before grabbing Sean's untouched milkshake.
"They switched the orders," I say easily. I take a seat and start sipping. The assistant wasn't lying about how good it is.
"Is it that good?" He sounds bemused. It is then that I realized that I have forgotten his presence and downed half of the cup.
I roll my eyes and raise the straw higher so he can hear the obnoxious slurping.
"Are you mad at me?" He still sounds amused. What the hell is so damn funny? Everything I do makes him laugh.
"I don't know," I glower. "You tell me."
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't make up for thirty minutes. When I'm done with my drink, I'm leaving," I snap.
"Hope, I'm sorry. I have no excuse."
My heart is angrily pounding in my chest. "Save it, Damien. Do you know how embarrassing it is to wait half an hour for your date to arrive? And you don't even have a reason. Is this how you think girls chase after you? You stand them up?" My voice rises and then lowers when I realize who can be hearing our conversation.
Damien doesn't answer and I avoid his gaze by sipping my drink. I feel his shoe tap against my nude heels before lowering his chin to the table. I slightly raise my gaze to see pouty lips. "Forgive me, babe."
My heart skip beats. He's never called me that before. And strangely, my anger dissipates as quickly as it came.
I choose to glare at him instead of replying.
"I'll make you a deal."
"What?" I ask, confused.
"I'll give you a kiss and if you don't like it, you can return it."
I fail at fighting the smile that appears on my face. I finally meet his gaze. "That's the worst one yet."
"Wait! Before you cast those dreamy eyes on me, I want to get my maps and GPS ready. Okay, go!"
I blurt out a laugh. "Oh my God. Get off the damn internet."
His lips curve into a smile and he shrugs. "You like it, though." The wind picks up a strand of his hair and shifts it to his forehead, his black hair absorbing moonlight, giving none of it back.
I reply in a near whisper, "Amongst other things." I am surprised at myself at how easy flirting is for me now. I guess being on the phone every day with him does that to you. And in a strange way, his confidence makes me confident.
He's laughing now. "I'll make it up to you. I promise."
I nod at him. He picks up the menu and scans the papers. "Did you order yet?"
"Would you have wanted me to start dinner without you?" Even though it is a bit past midnight but still.
"Touché."
The wind caresses my skin as it picks up. "I'll get a waldorf salad. I've never tried that."
He raise an eyebrow at me behind the menu. "You're on a date at a fancy restaurant and you want to order salad? Please don't tell me you're just being shy."
"I'm not. I'm not shy around you." At least not always.
"Funny. I'd say you find me intimidating."
"Intimidating?" I scoff. "You're as cute as a teddy bear. Nothing intimidating about that."
"I'm cute?" He smiles at me. My breath hitches involuntarily.
"Uh... I didn't-" I stutter before collecting myself. "It was a slip of the tongue." I bite my lip to hide a smile.
He snickers. "Okay sure. Order a sandwich. You said you haven't had those in years. What the hell do you eat, woman?"
"I like salads a lot." I feel the need to defend myself.
"Why? Is your doctor threatening you or something?"
"No," I scoff again. "It's a personal choice."
"You should eat what your heart desires not what your mind desires. Letting other people cloud your judgement is stopping you from enjoying real food. That's ridiculous." I'm guessing he remembers when I told him about the insensitive insult Miss Margaret threw at me.
"I'm not letting other people cloud my judgement," I lie.
"We may not know everything about each other yet Hope, but I definitely know that you care way too much what people think of you. You shouldn't." His gaze meets mine.
"Are you my therapist or something?"
"No, but I'm your boyfriend." He looks surprised as he says the word he never actually used before. My heart doesn't take this lightly. "And I order you to eat real food. Please." He adds when he notices I'm glaring.
"Fine." My subconscious is yelling at me that it's a bad idea considering how many calories I've already consumed with the milkshake. I ignore her.
The waiter comes in time and I skip the fancy meals and order a turkey BLT sandwich and Oreo milkshake. He orders the same drink with a philly cheese steak.
"This is nice," I inform him. But he isn't paying attention. His eyes are locked onto mine in an unwavering gaze.
"Are you thinking of another stupid joke?"
He blinks as if realizing just now that I was talking.
"You're so beautiful I forgot my pickup line." I scoff, unable to move my mouth. Heat rushes up my cheeks. Besides my dad, no man has ever called me beautiful. And yet he tells me it everyday.
"I'm serious," He answers, deadpan.
My heart is skipping in warnings and I say breathlessly, "You're such a flirt."
He rests his chin on his hands and lean in. "I can't help it."
"Does this actually work on girls?"
"I don't use them on anyone else so I wouldn't know." I think I'm going to have arrhythmia at this point.
Damien's POV
I am a dumbass.
I realize that as soon as I walk onto the roof. My eyes catches hers and under the dim romantic lighting, the word 'beautiful' conjures up into my mind.
She isn't the kind of beautiful that two-dimensional models were, the kind of beauty everyone sought. She's the kind of beautiful that was natural and strikingly evident. The kind of beauty people never knew they had despite millions of people telling them so.
My eyes follow her dark curly coils framing her soft features and down to her knee-length white dress. Damn. Such an understated word for someone so breathtaking.
My brows draw into a frown. Where are these thoughts coming from? I've never thought that way about a girl. And yet one look at her and my thoughts are going haywire. Something stirs inside my stomach. It's a new feeling and I'm not sure what to think of it.
"Hope?" I say clearing my throat. It comes out as a question and I quickly take a seat closest to the railings of the roof, hoping she didn't just see me staring at her like an idiot. I duly note that her purse is sitting on the table and I had coincidentally took the seat she had already chosen.
She takes the seat across from me, a milkshake in hand. "They switched the orders." It is then that I realize that before she sat down, she was standing in front of another table, filled with men too busy eating their food to actually talk to each other. One of them is peering at me through his sandwich and I raise an eyebrow in challenge. He drags his gaze back to his burger and I direct mine to her.
I'm pretty sure she has forgotten my presence because she is concentrating on her milkshake and I'm sure she hasn't taken a breath yet.
"Is it that good?" I tease. I quickly realize she's angry at me for being late. I don't blame her. The same time that she had texted me she arrived was the same time I had left my house. Obviously, I'm terrible with time. Though, I will admit I always arrive to places later than I should because I liked the idea of someone waiting for me.
We exchange playful banters after a while and my breath catches again as I take in her beauty. What the hell is happening here?
"Are you thinking of another stupid joke?"
I blink, remembering my place. "You're so beautiful I forgot my pickup line." I didn't mean to joke, but the feelings in my stomach is so foreign and it's my defense mechanism.
She scoffs and I tell her I'm serious. I don't want to be, but I am.
We talk for way too long to keep track, until she finally tells me she has to go.
"I'll pay," She offers.
"Hell no." Despite my refusal, she slips her card into the wallet the waiter brought a few minutes ago. She raises her eyebrows at me, daring me.
"How can I resist you?" I tuck a strand behind her ear.
"How do you always say the right things?" She responds breathlessly.
We lock gazes and stare at each other until the waiter clears his throat. Since when the hell did he came?
He picks up the wallet, staring at Hope in a flustered manner. I almost tell him to go fuck himself but I don't think Hope would appreciate that so much. Since when did I get so possessive anyway?
"Next time, I'll be here on time," I promise her. I know I'll be thinking about her all night and these foreign feelings growing inside me. The more I think about it, the more I like what she's doing to me. And the more I couldn't wait to kiss her.
She nods at me. "I'll hold you to that and we'll see if-" She looks down at the table and picks up her credit card. "The waiter dropped it." She's about to get up when I grab her arm.
"He didn't." I can't stop the grin on my face nor stop from laughing at her expression.
She rolls her eyes and takes a seat. "You're smooth, McIntire. I'll give you that. When did you even put your credit card in?"
"When you couldn't stop staring at me," I tease even though I was also a culprit.
"Unbelievable." She's shaking her head but smiling at me.
She gets up and smooth her dress down and I follow suit. "Okay. I'll see you another-"
I couldn't stop myself if I wanted to. I gently wrap my hands around the curves of her cheeks and lean in. She looks up at me hesitantly and looks down at my lips before glancing back up. I bridge the gap between us and kiss her. Her warm, tantalizing lips mold into mine and I realize that every other kiss I've ever had was all wrong.
It's gentle and soft and slow and it stirs something deep inside my body that I never knew I was capable of feeling.
Time must've stopped. Everything must've stopped. Because I was unaware of the wind blowing even harder through my ears or that the waiter had returned to pick up the other tables' plates until we pulled away. The door closes behind him and I feel the wind again and realize that the 4 men sitting together is now coughing and clearing their throat obnoxiously. I catch one of them glaring at me.
Have they never heard of PDA before? And aren't they aware that the rooftop and the lightings serves as a romantic setting? None of them look the least bit attracted to each other and it gives off a funny look.
I pull my gaze back to her and return the goofy smile on her face. "Call me," I whisper, winking at her to really sell the effect. She gently touches my face, leans on her toes to gently place a kiss on my lip, before walking out the door. I stand there, still feeling the imprint of her soft lips.
Time must've stopped. Everything must've stopped. Because I didn't realize I was now alone on the rooftop and that she was long gone until the damn waiter was asking if I needed anything.
Hope's POV
"You owe me a milkshake by the way," Sean mumbles.
"You had to admit that move was pretty smooth," I boast.
"If that's what you want to believe."
I roll my eyes yet again. "You're just jealous."
"Nope. I had a nice date with my sandwich, thanks. At least it arrived on time," Sean counters. The rest of the grown ass men don't even bother hiding their snickers.
I howled. "Oh really? So tell me, did your prom date even arrived at all?"
It is dark but I can still tell Sean's neck has turned red. I laugh along with the others. Sean had told us once how his high school prom date didn't even bother answering her door and he went alone with a corset still wrapped in the package.
"The rest of you ain't safe. If anyone pisses me off, I'll share this around." I gesture to my phone.
We start going back and forth while they begged me not to show my dad the embarrassing pictures.
After I get home I lie in bed thinking about my first kiss. Well technically, not my first since my first kiss was stolen in 4th grade when the klutzy Ronan fell on top of me smashing his braces and lips on me. Damien had a real good laugh at that.
However, it was my first real kiss. My mind plays over his hands on me and how gentle he was. His hands were soft, rough where there were calluses. He tasted of shampoo, a smell I know I'll never forget in my life. And his lips, oh his lips, was like falling backwards into a cloud and being unable to get back up.
My phone rings and I pick up a little too fast.
"Hi."
"Hi."
I fall asleep to his flirtatious jokes and childish banter, keeping my nightmares at bay.
*****
A/N: The name of this chapter is, you probably guessed, from the song Something Big by Shawn Mendes. It reminds me of Damien's feelings toward Hope.
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