He holds up his hands. “Don’t worry. Your aunt has been entertaining me with some truly riveting conversation. In fact”—a devious smirk hitches up the corners of his lips as his eyes narrow on mine a little—“we actually have a lot in common?—”
“Don’t say it,” I warn, even though I know exactly what’s coming, and that nothing will stop him now that he’s started.
That smile deepens. “Did you know Gina is a self-proclaimed Twihard as well? Weshouldbe enemies,” he explains with a glance at my aunt, who nods and grins at me as if she is abso-fucking-lutelydelightedby this turn of events. “You know, since she’s on Team Edward and all. But we’ve agreed to a truce for your sake, so you don’t have to choose sides.”
I don’t even bother to hide my groan as I reach up and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Dear god,” I mutter under my breath.
Behind me, my mom clears her throat to get my attention. Shit. In the span of sixty seconds, Damian’s weirdTwilightobsession derailed my thoughts, and I somehow completely forgot she was here. And right after chemo no less, looking very much like she just walked out of an oncology ward. If the sunken cheeks and pale skin weren’t evidence enough, the cotton wrap to cover her hairless head is a dead giveaway.
“Lex,” she begins, her eyes—the mirror of mine—swinging from my face to Damian’s then back again, pinning me in place. “Care to introduce me?”
I turn my attention to Damian, assessing his expression for any sign that he’s registered my Mom is sick…but I find nothing. Just a patient smile and a casual lift of his brow to remind me they’re all waiting for me to speak. Or maybe that’s all I’m allowing myself to see.
My lips part, and my mouth hangs open for a moment before I finally locate my voice. “Mom,” I say slowly, “this is Damian. Damian, this is…my mom.” I wave a put-out hand toward my aunt. “Gina, you know.”
Damian crosses to where my mom and I linger at the threshold to the living room, his long legs eating the distance in only two strides. “It’s great to meet you, Ms. Dornan,” he says, offering his hand to her. The way he addresses her as Ms. and not Mrs. doesn’t escape my notice, but then, I’ve never mentioned my dad, and he knows I live with my mom and aunt, so he probably just went with the safest option. I watch their interaction with laser focus, especially when my mom slides her hand into his and he shakes it. The gentle way he touches her is another thing that fails to evade my attention. “I’ve heard a lot of great things about you.”
You have?I nearly ask.From who? Because I sure as hell haven’t told you shit.But I swallow my comment and remind myself that Damian is just being polite. He’s acting, steppinginto a role, though who can say what part he’s supposed to be playing right now.
“Is that so?” my mom says, raising a brow at me before tacking on a kind, “And call me Carol, please. I refuse to be the only person in this room not on a first-name basis.”
Damian beams at her, clearly pleased, like a child who’s just been told he’s on Santa’s good list this year. God knows what he’s so happy about.
Seriously, why are you here?I try to ping that thought directly into his brain but fail. He just keeps smiling at my mom, completely oblivious to the molten heat of my stare on his face and my many obvious attempts to get him to look at me, so I can mouth for him to get out. To leave before he realizes I’ve been lying to him and ends up hating me for it, especially after he was so candid about his brother.
I could have told him then, in Guadalajara. I could have told him dozens of times. Ishouldhave told him, and yet…I could never seem to find the words. Maybe because talking about my mom’s sickness only makes it that much more real, and I want just one place in my life where I can pretend that it isn’t. That this isn’t my life. Maybe I just don’t want Damian’s pity, which is insane since he’s possibly the one person I know aside from Gina who would actually understand.
Or maybe I’m just scared because we have this major thing in common connecting us, and I don’t want it to freak him out. For it to be too heavy for him after what happened to Jamie. If it is, he’ll leave. And I want so badly for him to stay.
I don’t want to be left behind again.
At this thought, I look at my mom, acutely aware of how weak she is despite today being a good day. She needs her rest, but if I make a big deal about it, Damian will realize what’s going on, won’t he?
Just play it cool, Lex,I tell myself. As if playing things cool is something I’m totally capable of.
“Mom, um…why don’t you sit down, and I’ll go make everyone something to drink?” I suggest.
Three coffees and an herbal tea (for Mom) later, we’re sitting in the living room in awkward silence with mugs in hand, my mom resting in the oversized blue armchair that seems to swallow her whole, and me, Damian, and Gina on the sofa with me sandwiched in the middle. Damian’s body heat bleeds into mine, even though I make a conscious effort to keep some breathing room between us. Despite my efforts, I can feel Mom’s gaze zeroing in on my movements, no matter how slight, every time I shift, as if she knows exactly what I’m doing.
Her eyes flick from the near non-existent space between our hips to Damian’s face. “So, Damian, I’m assuming you go to Conwick, too?”
He nods. “Yeah. But Lexi and I aren’t in the same year. I’m a senior.”
Beside me, Gina nudges my shoulder. “Older man. Nice. Get it, girl.”
My cheeks burst into flame as my eyes snap to my mom, who scrutinizes my face, staring me down like a hawk. I expect her to say something, to call me out on…what, I don’t really know, but onsomething. Instead, her gaze settles back on Damian as she questions him about his major and then follows up that question with, “How did you and Lexi meet? It doesn’t sound like you share any classes.”
“We actually met in the library,” Damian tells her, and I nearly spit out my coffee. “I had to take a few math lectures to complete the requirements for my major, and she tutored me a handful of times.”
Oh.Okay, that wasn’t so bad,I assure myself when it seems like he won’t add anything further to that explanation. It’s notexactly a lie; thatwashow he first approached me, even if we spent that time flirting rather than studying, and the needing a tutor part turned out to be bullshit. Regardless, I’m just glad he didn’t say?—
“I tell ya, though,” he continues, as if the asshole is actually reading my mind, a smug grin forming on his lips, “she really rode mehardwith those math equations.”
Oh. My. God. If I could curl into a ball and die right now, I would. There is no fucking way my mom and Gina missed that conveniently placed double entendre. Gina’s raised brow and the smile she’s trying to fight are proof enough she heard it. Fucking Damian. My cheeks burn so hot I’m certain they’d rival the surface of the sun.
My mom’s eyes swing between me and Damian like a pendulum, her lips slightly pursed, as if she’s coming to some internal decision about something. Eventually, she says, “So, I take it you two are?—”
I jump up from the couch. “You know what? It’s getting late. Why don’t I see you out?” I say, grabbing Damian’s arm and yanking him to his feet.
