He laughs again, but doesn’t offer any explanation for the real question hanging unanswered between us.
I sigh. “Fine, I’ll bite. What happened to the douchemobile?”
Damian’s whole demeanor changes, the humor and light in his eyes extinguished as suddenly as a flame doused with water. When he next speaks, his voice is so soft I barely hear it. “I gave it back.”
I blink at him, not entirely convinced I heard him correctly. “You gave it…back,” I repeat, trying to make sense of this admission. “Like…to Mason?”
The tempered smile Damian offers me is strained. “Correct. And the Renesmobile got pulled out of retirement.” He pats the roof of the car again. “I was growing tired of the Maserati, andNessie here is far too good for my parents’ garage anyway, so it’s all for the best, really.”
I hold up a hand. “Wait, I’m confused. Why?”
“Why is she too good for my parents’ garage?” Damian asks, his brows knitting together until they’re hooding his eyes, darkening his gaze in a way that does something strange to my insides.
I clear my throat, trying to stay on track. “No. Why did you give it back?”
He knows what I was asking—I can see it in the way his pupils contract, just as I can see the tremor of unease twitching along his lips when he answers.
“It…was a reminder I didn’t want anymore.” His voice is only a breath above a whisper now, and I can tell it’s taking immense effort on his part to hold my gaze. He wants to look away so badly, his shame rising to the surface, but to his credit, he doesn’t. “Truthfully, I should’ve done it a long time ago.”
The air catches in my chest at his words, and I open my mouth to say something, even though I don’t have the first clue what to say or what to think. Damian cuts me off before I can utter anything more than an incomprehensible squeak.
“I know this doesn’t erase what I did, but after what happened the other day…” Now, hedoeslook away, his face visibly flustered. He runs a hand through his hair, disheveling the thick strands. “I thought maybe this would make it clear how much I wanted that redo, too.”
I gape at him, not quite sure what to make of this confession. Is this his way of saying thank you for forgiving him, or is he under the misguided assumption that there’s still a chance I haven’t? To be fair, it’s not like I’ve come right out and said it, but I thought it was obvious I have. That I do.
Idoforgive him.
I’m about to tell him so when his eyes veer over my shoulder, looking past me at something in the distance. “I think you’re wanted inside.”
“I…what?”
He jerks his chin ever so slightly in the direction of the house behind me. “Your mom and aunt are watching us from the window.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, turning my head to see if he’s telling the truth or if he’s messing with me, which honestly wouldn’t surprise me. But sure enough, Mom and Gina are spying on our conversation from the front window, the curtains now thrust aside. God, they aren’t even making an effort to hide it.
“Wait, I think Gina is mouthing something…” Damian squints. “‘Kiss…him’? Oh, well, if she insists, then you should definitely do that.” Winking at me, he puckers his lips.
“No, she is not!” I gasp, half out of embarrassment that my mom and aunt are watching this happen and half laughing at the stupid kissing face he’s making.
Damian barks out a laugh. “I’m joking, Dornan. Though, judging from your reaction, I’m guessing this means a rain check on that goodbye smooch.”
My face burns again, and the gleeful look in his eyes tells me I am probably as red as a tomato. “I…yeah.” I don’t need to give my mom and Gina any ammunition when I’m sure they already have an entire arsenal of questions.
My stomach dips, and it dawns on me that I’m…disappointed. Iwantto kiss Damian, and not because of this chemical attraction between us, or as a precursor to sex, but because I simply want to be close to him in that way. Because his goofy, stupid face makes my chest feel light, and I don’t want that horrible weight from before to come creeping back in.
“You know,” he croons, stepping forward to tuck a rogue curl behind my ear. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed, Blondie.”
I snort. “What? I’m not?—”
“Liar.” He flashes a coy smile at me, and before I can protest any further, he opens the door to the silver Audi and slides into the driver’s seat with a wave.
I stand on the sidewalk for a tragically long time after Damian drives away, the image of his face in the rear-view mirror—shrinking the farther he got from me—burned into my mind like a bad memory. It’s another long moment before I remember my mom and aunt watching me from the window, and the hair on the back of my neck rises as I turn and retrace my steps up the path. My eyes drift to the large glass panes, but my nosy relations have vanished from view. Still, though I can’t see them to gauge their expressions, I’m aware of what’s coming.
Sure enough, the second I step back inside the house, they are both on top of me like Ronnie on a free samples table. They corner me against the closed front door.
“All right, spill,” my aunt demands at the same time my mom says, “What was that, Lex?”
“Damian.” I give a little nonchalant shrug as if that answer alone explains everything. “He’s a…friend.”
