by Regan Ure
I shrunk away from him. It didn't matter that he wasn't Grant. The only time I was touched is when Grant hit me, so anytime someone touched me, my body reacted instinctively, even though I knew not everyone was like Grant. I tried to pull my wrist free but he held on firmly. His eyes narrowed at my reaction to him.
"I'll let go if you promise not to run away again," he told me.
I glanced from his face to where he held me at my wrist and gave him a brief nod. He released me. He hadn't hurt me, but instinctively I rubbed the spot on my wrist where he'd held it. I dropped my arms to my side while I glared at him.
"I just want to talk to you," he said.
I crossed my arms over my chest and waited. I knew there was no point in trying to get away; he would grab my wrist again, and I didn't like to be touched.
“Why did you run away from me yesterday?” he asked. I continued to stare at him, but I remained silent.
CHAPTER FIVE
Haven
"Look," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I just wanted to say I was sorry about Angela." His tone had softened and his wide, expressive blue eyes conveyed the apology sincerely.
Who was Angela?
"The blonde that was giving you shit yesterday," he explained, when he saw my confusion. My eyes widened in surprise.
So Barbie has a name, I thought. The name Barbie suited her better: pretty and plastic. How did he know about Barbie giving me shit yesterday, anyway? I frowned at him.
"Your friend, Chris, told me what happened and gave me a piece of his mind," he explained. "His exact words were, 'keep your whores away from her.' "
Chris. Even though I didn't want him to get involved in my life, I couldn't help the warm feeling inside me, there because of what he’d done for me.
"She had no right to do that," he began to explain. I shrugged. I didn't care.
I'd come to the realization that it was mainly his fault. If he hadn’t stared at me in a few of our classes then Barbie wouldn’t have gotten jealous.
"She isn't my girlfriend or anything like that," he continued with his eyes on me. I still didn't care if they were dating or not. It didn't matter to me and I didn't know why he felt the need to explain it to me. I had no designs on him and I wished they would leave me alone.
"Angie can be a bitch sometimes," he explained further as he stuffed his hands in the pockets in the front of his jeans.
Only sometimes? I thought.
It didn't say much for him. Why would he associate with someone he knew wasn't a nice person? Then I remembered what Chris had told me about him. He had only one thing on his mind when it came to girls, and it had nothing to do with conversation or their personality. He wasn't that different from most boys his age. Most of them had one thing on their mind and nothing else, but he seemed to take it to the extreme.
"I told her to stay away from you," he assured me. My eyes widened in alarm. I honestly didn't think that she was going to listen to him and I was sure the fact that I'd told someone what happened was probably not going to end well for me. Barbie and her followers were probably going to make my life even worse.
"Trust me, she won't be a problem anymore," he told me when he saw my reaction.
Trust him? Was he kidding? I didn't trust anyone. I didn't even trust my own parents. My father had died—it hadn’t been his fault, but he'd still left me. My mother had stopped loving me and it had literally happened overnight. Everyone I'd ever trusted had let me down. If I couldn't trust my own parents, how on earth was I supposed to trust strangers?
"I got something on her, something she wouldn't want everyone to find out," he whispered to me with a smirk. He was blackmailing her into doing what he wanted. I didn't want to know what he had on her, but if it was enough to keep her in line and off my back, I was happy.
"If she comes near you again, you let me know," he held my gaze. He knew as well as I did that if Blondie did try to bully me again, I wouldn't tell him.
"You don't talk much," he murmured as he brushed his hair out of his face. He watched me with fascination.
I'd done my part, I'd listened to what he’d had to say, but I wasn't interested in making pointless conversation. If he could keep Blondie away from me that would be great, but other than that I didn't want anything to do with him. He didn't need to know anything about me and I didn't want to know anything about him.
While he waited for me to respond to his comment, I picked up my school bag and hitched it over my shoulder. Pain shot through my side and I winced. I'd forgotten about my rib.
"Are you okay?" he asked with concern when he reached for my arm. I pulled my arm out of his reach and I took a step backward. This was one of the reasons I preferred to keep my distance from people, because if I slipped up I didn't want anyone to witness it and ask questions.
"I'm fine," I assured him softly. His eyes widened in shock at the fact that I'd finally spoken. "Please leave me alone.”
I'd said what I had needed to, so I turned and walked away from him, leaving him standing slightly open-mouthed while he watched me disappear. I was mad with myself for talking to him. I don't know what had made me speak to him.
No Damien and no Barbie was what I wanted. Then I thought about Chris, and as much as I knew it wasn't a good idea, I didn't want there to be no Chris.
By the time Chris dropped down next to me at our usual spot by the field I was fuming. I crossed my arms and glared at him—I wanted him to know I was angry with him. Like the day before, he set a brown paper bag in front of me and one in front of him. He seemed oblivious to my anger. When I didn't open the lunch he'd brought for me he looked at me and saw my expression.
"I take it you found out about my little talk with Damien," he said.
My glare intensified as I pressed my lips together.
"I'm not sorry I said something. Someone had to do something about that blonde bimbo," he insisted. I smiled at the nickname he'd given her—Bimbo. It almost suited her better than Barbie.
I eased my glare but kept my arms crossed.
"Ah, come on, you can't stay cross with me," he insisted playfully. Then he flashed that wide smile at me and I felt my resolve begin to crumble. "I couldn't do nothing and let her bully you."
Even though I hadn't wanted anyone to know about it, I understood why he'd done what he had.
"I knew she wouldn't listen to me, but I knew she would listen to Damien," he added, before he took a bite out of his sandwich. At the sight of food, my stomach grumbled in response. I was so hungry.
My anger vanished and I dropped my arms and opened the packed lunch Chris had given to me. I nearly hugged Chris right there and then. He'd packed a cheese sandwich, a pear, a chocolate bar and a soda.
I’d learned to keep a tight control over my emotions, it was how I survived the hell that was my life, but I struggled with the emotion that his kindness pulled from me. I felt the emotional lump in my throat and I swallowed hard.
He hadn't been offended when I'd tried to hide away from him. Instead he had brushed it aside. He'd never asked me why I never had lunch—instead, he brought lunch for me every day. I never talked to him but it didn't seem to matter to him. He would talk enough for the both of us and I could just sit there and listen to him. Even when he found out Barbie was bullying me, he'd done something about it. I couldn't control the tenderness I felt toward this boy who in a couple of days had done more for me than anyone else had in the last seven years.
I unwrapped the sandwich and ate while Chris talked. One of things I loved was listening to him ramble on about trivial things like what he watched on TV or the latest gossip from the school. The sound of his voice was relaxing and for those few minutes I could relax.
My stomach was stuffed by the time I finished all the food. I opened the soda and took a sip. I loved the fizzy bubbles.
"Thank you," I said softly, when I glanced in his direction. His eyes met mine and they widened in surprise. Then he smiled. It was a big smile that showed h
is perfectly white teeth.
I didn't want to form any type of friendship with him but he was slowly starting to break the walls I'd built up around myself. I'd tried to fight it, but he was so damn persistent.
"You're welcome," he said. "Do you have any requests for lunch tomorrow?"
I shook my head. Just the fact that he was thoughtful enough to bring me lunch was enough for me, so I wasn't going to get fussy. There was no way Chris would have any idea what was happening to me at home and, if he did, he'd realize how much I appreciated the lunches he packed for me and the company he gave me during lunch.
I'd led a very lonely existence for the past seven years and for once it was nice to have someone to keep me company. I'd actually started to look forward to spending my lunches with Chris. I would just have to make sure that I was careful and that he didn't find out anything about what was happening to me. If he did become suspicious, then I'd have to move again, and I didn't want to. I'd just started to settle down into my new life.
"Did you hear the big news?" he asked, before he took a sip of his soda. I looked at him curiously because I never kept up with the gossip. I only vaguely remembered what he would babble on about at lunchtime.
"Damien dumped Angela," he revealed, watching my reaction. I gave him a shrug. "Not that they were dating, they were just doing each other. So technically they are not doing each other anymore."
I remembered Damien pushing her up against the lockers. They'd definitely been doing each other. I don't know why he thought I'd be interested in that news. Who Damien 'did' had nothing to do with me. In the back of my mind I couldn't help but wonder if Damien had dumped Angela because of the little incident between me and her. Why would Damien care about what happened to me? It was a ridiculous thought.
He probably didn't like the fact that Angela was insinuating to people that they were dating when technically they weren't. From what I saw and what Chris had told me, he was the type of guy that kept things casual. He probably got nervous when Angela starting talking about a more permanent arrangement.
I shook my head. I needed to get rid of thoughts of Damien. It shouldn't matter to me what was happening in his life. As long as he left me alone I was happy.
"Apparently he wasn't happy about her telling people that they were dating when they weren't," he explained with a smirk. I'd hit the nail on the head.
He dropped the subject of Damien and started talking about something else while I drank my soda.
When lunch ended he walked me to my next class and, when we got to my class, instead of ignoring him like I had previously, I gave him a weak smile before he turned and left. Baby steps.
The rest of the day passed quickly. The couple of times I saw Barbie she just glared at me; time would tell if she actually listened to Damien and left me alone. In my last class of the day I got held up. The teacher had wanted to ask me how I was settling in. So even though I ran as fast as I could, sore rib and all, I didn't make it to the bus stop in time. The bus was long gone.
Frustrated, I looked up to the sky. Dark clouds were beginning to form the in the sky above me. It looked like it was going to rain and I was going to have to walk home in it.
I clutched my tender side while I struggled to catch my breath. I felt so annoyed that I'd been held up in class. When the pain in my side eased, I began to walk. I kicked a loose stone while I walked down the sidewalk and hitched my school bag higher over my shoulder. The sound of rumbling clouds didn’t ease the anxiousness that had settled inside me. I was lost in my thoughts, so I didn’t notice a sleek, dark-gray SUV slow down beside me. I only noticed it when it stopped beside me.
The window of the SUV opened.
"Can I give you a lift home?" Damien asked from inside the car.
I glanced from him to the path in front of me. It would make my life a lot easier if I got a lift home with him, but letting Damien get involved in my life wouldn't be a good idea.
"Come on, it's not safe for you to walk home," he argued. He was right, but to be in a confined space with him for any amount of time wouldn't be safe for me, either. “And it looks like it’s going to rain.”
With another few moments of deliberation I finally relented and gave in. If I got home too late I wouldn't have dinner ready by the time Grant got home, and he wouldn't be happy. I reached for the handle on the passenger side and opened the door. Once I climbed into the car and closed the door I was overwhelmed by a smell that was distinctly Damien. It was a blend of spice and musk, and I had to admit I liked it. It was kind of comforting.
"Where do you live?" he asked me when he pulled the car away from the sidewalk.
I was ashamed to give him my address. If his car was anything to go by, he probably lived in a nice neighborhood. I, on the other hand, lived in an unsavory part of town, in a crappy apartment. I mumbled my address under my breath, embarrassed about him finding out where I lived. He didn't say anything as he started the drive to my home.
"So you talk," he said, shooting a quick look in my direction. Water droplets spattered against the windscreen as it began to rain lightly.
All I wanted to do was get home—I didn't want to be dragged into a conversation with Damien. The less he knew about me the better.
"Is there a reason you don't talk a lot?" he prodded further. He glanced in my direction, and then brought his attention back to the road as the wipers swept the water from the windscreen.
I shrugged and stared out of the window through the light rain spattering against the glass, trying to ignore his attempts to start a conversation with me.
"Has Angela given you any more trouble?" he asked. I looked at him and shook my head. So far so good.
Then I did something that surprised me.
"Why did you break up with Angela?" I asked quietly.
He gave me a surprised look and then he turned his attention back to the road.
"Whatever was going on between us had run its course," he answered. His answer was short and to the point. "It was never going to be a permanent arrangement and she knew that up front. But she kept pushing me for more than I was prepared to give."
I wasn't surprised by his answer. I'd pretty much guessed that already.
I didn't like the way I felt when I was around Damien, and being in a confined space with him was just amplifying it. I kept sneaking glances at him. He was really good looking. He also had that confident air about him that made the girls flock to him. As hard I could, I tried to ignore him. By the time he pulled up in front of my house, I was relieved. It had started to rain more heavily.
"Thank you," I said when I climbed out of his car. I didn't wait for him to say anything. By the time I walked to my apartment and opened the door I was wet from the rain. When I glanced back, Damien was still sitting in his SUV, watching me.
I closed the door and leaned against it. Only then did I hear the sound of his car pulling away.
CHAPTER SIX
Haven
As the next few weeks eased past, I settled into a routine. The warm summer weather cooled into autumn. The leaves of the trees turned brown.
I kept to myself. The only person I didn’t shy away from was Chris. He still sat with me every lunch break and he still brought me a packed lunch each day. Slowly but surely, with his perseverance, I’d begun to open up to him. He was now my friend, not just my stalker. All the little things he did for me helped me build trust in people again. I trusted him. He hadn’t gained my trust overnight; it had taken time.
Grant still hit me regularly but he didn’t seem to hit me as hard. I had less bruises which I had to cover up for the outside world. I barely saw my mom, and when I did it was still shocking to see the evidence of her descent into self-destruction. Sometimes I wondered how long it would be before her body finally gave in. It could only take so much punishment.
I wondered how I would feel if my mom died. To be honest, I wouldn’t miss the person she was today. I’d miss the distant memory of the mother who had loved
me.
Whatever Damien had on Barbie must have been really good, because she’d left me alone. She’d still glare at me every time she saw me, but she didn’t try to corner me again. I saw her groping some other football player the other day. Clearly, she’d moved on from Damien.
Damien.
Since the afternoon he’d given me a lift home I hadn’t seen much of him. Every now and then I would see him in the hallways, but he never tried to talk to me again.
In the classes I had with him he would still stare at me. I couldn’t help but wonder why he seemed so fascinated with me. I didn’t see him with any other girl. I knew it shouldn’t matter, but it did. My eyes had a mind of their own as they swept the hallways looking for a glimpse of him. I couldn’t stop the fluttering feeling inside my stomach at the sight of him when I spotted him out of the corner of my eye.
I tried hard to fight it, but I wasn’t winning. I knew I needed to put a stop to whatever I was starting to feel for this boy, because it wasn’t going to end well. Chris had noticed my interest in Damien and even the regular speeches from him about what a player Damien was and how he’d break me fell on deaf ears.
It was difficult enough trying to keep the truth of what was happening to me at home from Chris. That was the problem with letting people in—if they were observant, it wouldn’t take them long to figure it out and confront me with it.
Then one afternoon, after school, I was walking toward the bus stop when someone stepped into my path.
I looked up to see Damien standing in front of me.
“Can I give you a lift home?” he asked, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. I glanced past his shoulder to the bus stop, where the bus was waiting.
“I haven’t missed the bus,” I told him, not understanding why he was offering me a lift.
“I know, I wanted to give you a lift home,” he said, his eyes watching mine.
