I Would Kill For You

11. No Place To Hide

I literally ran to my bedroom. Good thing my room was on the second floor and the entrance door didn't face the kitchen. I slipped out of my clothes and put on some dark jeans and a comfortable pink sweater, then scurried to the bathroom. I washed my face and sprayed myself with perfume and rushed back to my room, fixing my makeup. I put a pale pink lipstick on, combed and untangled my wavy long hair and glanced at myself in the mirror. In five minutes, I managed to make myself look less blowsy and pretty, if you didn't take the dark circles under my eyes into consideration.

I took a deep breath and came down, trying to slow my heart rate down with encouraging thoughts. There was nothing to be nervous about. Only the handsome, untouchable guy in school who everyone called a killer was in my kitchen with my mother. But it was cool. I could do this.

No, I couldn't. I definitely couldn't.

"Good Morning." I voiced lively as soon as I entered the kitchen.

Two heads turned to me simultaneously. My mom was seated at the head of the table, wearing a dark blue dress. Her hair was secured in a loose ponytail, strands framing her oval face. She had red lipstick on and looked very diplomatic. Judging by her sophisticated attire, she must have gone to work in the early morning. She was a very matutinal person. Her stance was relaxed and her feet were directed towards her interlocutor. I knew what that meant. She was genuinely enjoying their conversation.

My heartbeat was thudding so fast that it echoed in my eardrum when I caught Damian's eye. He gazed at me intently, as usual, and his black eyes glistened with triumph. His lips curved into a foxy smile that I wanted to slap away. He probably had guessed my thoughts, for his contented expression only intensified. He was dressed all in black. On him, it wasn't a colour that washed out his physique; on the contrary, it accentuated his chiselled facial features, his strong jawline and lean limbs. His presence was so strong and dazzling, that I almost forgot to breathe. His long fingers were wrapped around a cup of tea.

"Morning, sweetie." My mom got up from the chair and kissed my cheek. "Did you know Damian's an avid connoisseur of classical music?" she asked me enthusiastically.

"Really." I muttered incredulously, keeping my eyes glued on him.

"Yes! Anyway, I'll let you two talk. We'll be upstairs, okay?"

I nodded and my mom left, closing the door after her. Silence wafted between us, and I disrupted the stillness by taking mom's former place, in the head of the table. Damian scanned my face meticulously, as if he were trying to discern my emotions. I showed none.

"How's Devon's bed?" he asked sharply, taking me by surprise.

I shouldn't be surprised anymore. He seemed to know every step I took, and for that, I supposed I could blame Ellie. He must have called her prior to coming here. She must have been the one to give him my address as well.

"Go see for yourself." I snarled, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back in the chair. "Why are you here?"

"To give you this." he said, and delved his hand in the pocket of his jeans. He retrieved a small paper envelope and handed it to me. "Please read it."

"And this couldn't wait till Monday because..?"

He looked hurt by my peevish attitude. But not even the endearing beam of his dark eyes or the twitch of his full lips was enough to warm my heart, not after finding out about his clandestine friendship with Ellie and after seeing that photograph with Monica that haunted me. He was surrounded by mystery and secrets, and that was as intriguing as it was overwhelming.

"Because you're upset with me. And understandably so."

I cut him off with a hand and snatched the envelope from his hands, getting up from the chair.