𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝

Chapter Ten

N O A H

There was nothing left of the girl I met in Isaac's living room four years ago.

I stared at her in the rain, her shirt sticking to her skin and showing me curves and details I had only seen in my wildest dreams.

She had definitely changed since we met, and I had no idea she would make it harder for me to keep my distance by doing so.

I would never be good enough for her. My mind was a dangerous place and I had made it my mission to never let her see. Never let her know.

"Get," I said, reinforcing my words by taking a step closer to her—a very treacherous move. "In," one more step, "the car."

She stared up at me with those big blue eyes, scoffing.

I couldn't pull away. Not yet. Moments like these were rare. Where I could enjoy her beauty without raising any suspicion or insinuate certain feelings. One of the few things that seemed to make me feel something these days. Something good.

So I took everything I could get.

It took all of me not to lower my eyes to her chest again—a mistake I made earlier—and see those tantalizing peaks that were currently threatening to rip the fabric of her shirt.

To prevent myself from doing something I'd regret, I finally turned around and did the only thing I could think of. The thing I always did when I was near Bellamy. Be a dick.

"Stop being a brat and get in."

She opened her mouth, but I wasn't done. "I came to bail you out of jail for god knows what in the middle of the night and made sure to delete the voicemail on the answering machine at home so Isaac wouldn't find out before you got a chance to tell him yourself. And this is how you're going to act?"

She shifted on her feet and for a second I saw the girl from years ago. Chewing on her lower lip, she kept her eyes on the ground.

"And stop doing that," I added. I knew she didn't do it on purpose, which made it even harder to resist.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, and I felt my stomach turn. The fire in her eyes had disappeared, and I didn't get the comeback I expected. Shit.

"Let's go home."

—

The drive back to the house was silent, and none of us made an attempt to start a conversation. We both knew it was pointless anyway.

By the time we made it home, I could think a little clearer.

Bellamy stormed into the house, swaying a little as she kicked off her shoes and made her way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

I watched her like a freak. Her hair stuck to her face and neck, her shirt still as see-through as before, and her makeup had run down her face in black streaks. It gave her something sad, hollow.

It was hard not to see that she could get carried away a little too much when she drank, and after the conversation I overheard last week, I had been wondering.

"What?" she snapped, catching me staring.

I focused on her face and narrowed my eyes at specks of red on her skin. How had I not seen that before?

She jumped slightly when I walked up to her, but I ignored it. I only had eyes for the cut on her cheek. Who hurt her?

"Noah," she breathed, and the throaty sound almost made my knees buckle.