Caught in Us

by Layla Hagen

  A grin the size of California blooms on my face when I enter our room. Predictably, Hazel opened more than half of the boxes already.

  "What took you so long?"

  "I had to wait in line. Then they took forever to explain everything to me. Oh, and I ran into Damon."

  Hazel stops mid-stride, putting down the box she was carrying. "Shit, that was what I wanted to talk to you about."

  "You knew?"

  "I saw him on campus when I came to do some paperwork yesterday. How was it?"

  "Good. Better than I expected." A fluttering feeling forms in my stomach as I remember our conversation, and I try not to get my hopes too high up...but who am I kidding? I’m practically drunk on hope and excitement. "He's meeting us at the party tonight."

  "Meeting you, you mean. I'll make sure to disappear at the right moment."

  "You will not do that. Let's get with unloading those boxes."

  "Are you nuts? You have a date tonight."

  "We didn't agree to it being a date—”

  "I'm declaring it a date. Come on, let's get you ready."

  "You already factored in a two-hour preparation time," I argue.

  "Yeah, but that's before this was a date."

  My preparation time strongly resembles a spa visit: peeling, moisturizing, shaving…everywhere. Then Hazel and I debate what kind of makeup we want. I decide on a smoky-eyes do. I saw it a few times on Jess, and it looked fabulous. Well, Jess is a wizard with all things makeup, so of course she made it look flawless. But my results, even though they lack Jess's touch of perfection, still look great. Hazel decides she wants a less ostentatious look, just a little pink eye shadow and mascara.

  Another hour passes in which we do our hair. I look longingly at Hazel’s long tresses. Last year, I started the process of changing myself by cutting my hair very short, which I don’t regret, but styling your hair while it goes through all the awkward growth stages is a pain in the ass. Now it brushes my shoulders, and I can’t wait until it reaches elbow-length again.

  "How was your semester-opening party in the fall?" I ask.

  "Interesting. I met a bunch of people, but I'm glad you're here for this one," she says. This time, it's not Hazel who squeezes me in a tight hug; I hug her.

  I decide to wear jeans and a fancy silk top, discarding the sexy dress Hazel’s mom bought for me as a present. In my rebel days, I would’ve worn it and hoped I didn’t look ridiculous. Maybe Jess infused some of her confidence in me while I lived with her in London, because I’m more comfortable in my own skin than I used to be. There is no point trying to pass off as someone else.

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Dani

  We meet up with a few friends of Hazel's. A group of three people, two guys and one girl, wait for us in front of the marble fountain where Damon and I talked today.

  "I'm Kylie," the girl says, waving at me, the breeze blowing gently through her stark-red curls. It's obvious by the tan complexion of her skin that she's not a natural redhead, but the color suits her. Kylie shudders a bit. Her short black dress doesn’t provide much protection against the chilly night.

  A hunky, dark-haired and gorgeous guy has his arm around Kylie's waist. "Drew. Hazel's told us lots about you."

  "I've heard a lot about you guys, too. You met last semester, right?"

  "Last semester's welcome party, to be more exact."

  "Aye, aye. Bashes bring people together," the second guy says, and everyone turns to look at him.

  "This is Chase," Hazel says. Chase crosses his arms over his chest, a movement that emphasizes his toned arms. He has short, curly blond hair and boyish blue eyes. I can imagine that if he wants to, those eyes can be a weapon to bring any woman to her knees. By the way his eyes drink in Hazel's body, he must know this very well. "Chase, please behave."

  "Don't I always?" he says in mock offense. Hazel rolls her eyes at him.

  "Hey, I've known Dani for thirty seconds. Usually by that time, I'm already sticking my tongue down a girl's throat. I haven't so much as made one move. I'm on my very best behavior."

  My mouth falls open. "Is this the way you usually talk?"

  "You haven't seen anything, trust me," Drew adds, shaking his head in amusement. He pulls Kylie closer to him, planting a small kiss on her neck. Hazel and I exchange a furtive glance. She mentioned a few times how, ever since these two hooked up, they can't seem to be able to keep their hands off each other. I think they're cute.

  "Enough talking," Chase says, jamming his hands in his pockets. "If we're too late, the line to the bar will be huge. I'll have to flirt with the bartender again so we can get some beers. I’m hoping to avoid that this time. There's only so many times I can do that before he realizes I'm not playing for the other team."

  "I thought we were going to a house party," I point out. "There's a designated bartender?"

  "There is when the captain of the soccer team is throwing the party," Chase says.

  "The bartender is very cute, but not into girls," Kylie explains. "Anyone who thinks you're into anything but girls isn't right in their mind, Chase. But it did get us drinks without waiting, so..."

  "Is everyone on campus attending the same party?" I inquire.

  "No, the cool kids attend it. Couldn't care less what the others do. Safe to say that everyone is attending a party. It's just the way things work around here, love." Chase puts an arm around my shoulders, drawing me close enough to him that I can inhale the whiff that tells me he's been busy with pre-drinking before he got here. "Study hard, party harder."

  "But the classes haven't even started yet," I point out, pushing him gently away so I can inhale some much needed fresh air.

  "Oh, that's right." Rubbing his chin, he adds, "Then I guess we should correct the saying: Party hard, study if you have time left."

  "That's his mantra, Dani." Hazel looks at the arm Chase is holding around my shoulders. The longing in her gaze makes me squirm. "Please don't listen to him."

  "Hey, I had a better GPA than you last semester," Chase retorts. "So far, seems like my way is the way."

  "And what's your way, Chase?" Kylie inquires. "Charming poor Ms. Ember and Ms. Lawrence? We all know you’re not above that."

  "I’m not, but cougars aren't my thing. I prefer fresh meat. Can't help it if they can't resist my jerk-charm, though."

  "You’re disgusting," Hazel tells him.

  "Some call me charming. It's a matter of taste."

  "Or how much alcohol they've had," Drew points out.

  "You're such a borefest since you got into Kylie's pants. Hazel, Dani, please don't get into relationships. It turns perfectly normal people into insufferable bores."

  "Let's go, shall we?" I interject. "Or the line to the bar will be so long that even if you offer to do the bartender, we won't get drinks any time tonight."

  "Bossy. I like it." Chase puts his other arm around Hazel's shoulders, pulling her so close to him she might get drunk just by inhaling the puffs of alcohol on his breath. I look at her with raised eyebrows, but she doesn't notice me. She's too preoccupied with Chase; her eyes are fixed on him with a yearning I recognize. Yep, my beloved friend has the hots for what looks to be Stanford’s designated man-whore. He seems like good fun, though, and guys can change. My brother proved that by leaving his man-whoring days behind him. Drew and Kylie lead the way, holding hands. The three of us trail behind them, Chase holding both Hazel and I close to him.

  The party surprises me. I haven't been to many house parties, but I imagined them to be pretty laid-back and improvised a lot. This one looks planned down to the last detail. No wonder it's popular. One thing becomes painfully clear: the line to the bar is so long, we won't be getting drinks any time soon.

  "Chase, you and I are in charge of drinks," Drew says.

  "Oh, come on, that's not fair. I'm the one waiting in line every time. Why can't Kylie wait with you?"

  "You should learn how to be a gentleman. Besides, no bartender can resist your charm," Kyli
e says. With that, Kylie, myself, and a very conflicted Hazel leave Chase and Drew at the bar, making our way through the crowd. Men and women swing their hips to the roaring sound of the music, sweat glistening on their skin in a sexy way. Laughter stretches across their faces, and were it not for the music, it would be echoing all around us. The music is electrifying, the rhythmic bass making even the air pulse with life. The whole atmosphere is infectious, and when Kylie and Hazel start dancing, I don't hesitate in joining them, barely containing my grin. I’m usually uncomfortable in crowds, especially when we’re so squeezed together that one wrong movement is all it takes to touch butts with someone. Some of that uncomfortable feeling still lingers in the recesses of my mind as I swing my hips, laughing as both Hazel and Kylie mimic grabbing someone's ass. There's this one other thing that bothers me, though...How will Damon find me here? I make a full turn in my spot trying to gauge him in the crowd. No luck.

  Chase and Drew arrive an eternity later with our drinks. Chase hands me one of the glasses.

  "What's this?" I yell in his ear.

  "The barman's specialty. Tequila Sunrise with extra tequila." We all clink glasses.

  I eye mine suspiciously then sip from it, squinting as the alcohol burns down my throat. Drew immediately pulls Kylie to him and they start dancing. Their intimate moves make me blush and look away. Chase pulls both Hazel and me to him, slinging an arm around each of our waists. I push him away because I have the nagging suspicion Hazel wants to have Chase all to herself. My friend has gone all sneaky on me. All those times she talked to me about her new friends, she never once mentioned she has a crush on Chase. I dance on my own, trying not to spill my drink on anyone. I study Hazel and Chase. For all his womanizing air, he doesn't dance nearly as provocatively with Hazel as other pairs around. In fact, he seems determined to keep a few inches of distance between them. Weird.

  I've nearly finished my drink when I feel a familiar presence behind me. I don't know what alerts me to it, but I whirl around just as Damon says, "Dani."

  ***

  My breath hitches as I stare directly into Damon's stunning green eyes. He takes my hand, placing a small kiss in my palm, making my toes curl. It's here, in the dimness of the room, with neon red and blue lights dancing across his features, that something becomes clear. Damon has changed. It's as if a veil has been lifted off him, and the burden he was carrying on his shoulders when I first met him no longer weighs on him as much.

  "You look beautiful," he mouths to me. His eyes rake over my body, drinking in every inch of me. I don’t return the compliment, but that’s just because I’m too busy admiring him.

  The bad boy vibe coming off him is so strong; I can almost touch it. I’m not the only one mesmerized by him. A group of women to our right point at him, giggling. Damon must know the effect he has on women, yet he only has eyes for me.

  "Can I get you another drink?" he asks.

  I nod, a familiar feeling of longing springing inside me as Damon takes my hand, leading the way. Delicious tingles form in my palm, traveling up and down my body, sending hot and cold shivers through me. The gentle squeeze of his hand bestows confidence and a sense of empowerment. It's not the first time his presence has made me believe that with Damon next to me, I could do anything. When we arrive at the bar, I’m pleasantly surprised to notice the line isn't nearly as large as it was before. When our turn comes, Damon asks, "What do you want to drink?"

  "Tequila. I've already had a Tequila Sunrise, which had an overdose of tequila in it, and I'm sticking to the ‘only one type of drink a night’ rule."

  "Smart rule." His lips curl upward to form the smile I fell for.

  We walk with our shot glasses in the opposite direction from the dance room, into a darker part of the house. It's also quieter, though the bass still pounds heavily around us. Holding the glasses to eye level, we clink them.

  "To what are we drinking?" I ask.

  "To the girl who made me want to change," he answers. I tug at my lower lip with my teeth, trying to hide the devastating effect his words have on me.

  "I can't toast to myself, Damon."

  "To us, then." There is no hesitation in his voice.

  "To us," I agree. The mere word makes me dizzy with elation; no tequila needed. Us. The possibility of us haunted me since our first kiss. When it became a reality, I was convinced it was a dream. When the dream turned into a nightmare, I wanted to forget. Now I’m ready to dream again. We take the orange slice off the edge of the glass then down the liquid, keeping our gazes interlocked the whole time. Tequila burns my throat, but Damon ignites every other part of my body.

  "I wonder if the bartender needs help with other bartending gigs," Damon says, switching the topic.

  "You're super smart. You should apply for some jobs in Silicon Valley. I know from James that companies there always look for programmers."

  "I have. Meanwhile, I also applied for nearly every job on campus."

  "I'm very proud of you." I lean on the wall behind me, jumping a bit as the cold concrete touches my skin. Silence dons between us for a few seconds that stretch into minutes.

  "Dani?" Damon says tentatively, but I stare insistently at my feet. "There is something you want to ask me. I can sense it."

  "Why did you never call, Damon?" I know I asked him before, in London, but his answer wasn't enough. "Even if it was just to say you never want to see me again."

  "Precisely because I did want to see you again, but I was in a bad place when I left, Dani. It felt like I would never get out of it, and I didn't want to drag you down with me. I didn't know if I'd finally get my shit together or end up in jail like Gabe." Leaning toward me, he adds, "I want a second chance with you. I will make it right this time."

  My head spins from the impact of his words and his intoxicating scent. I put my palm on his chest, gently pushing him away so I can whip my thoughts in order. Feeling his defined muscles beneath my fingers has the opposite effect, unleashing memories I tried hard to forget. The night we spent together flashes before my eyes, the hunger he awoke in me then ravaging me now.

  "You're taking things a bit too fast, Damon. I didn't even know you were back until today."

  "Okay, let's start with baby steps. A date?"

  I chuckle, twirling a strand of hair between my fingers. "That's a giant step."

  "A dance?" Damon holds out his hand, giving a theatrical bow as if inviting me to a turn-of-the-century dance.

  "That would be nice," I say. "Let's stay here, though. There are too many people in the other room."

  "I was going to suggest the same. I like it here. It's more...intimate."

  The moment I place my hand in his, he pulls me to him, twirling me around until I'm no longer facing him. He pulls my hips against his with such force that he steals my breath away. I try—and fail—not to think about the fact that my bum presses on his crotch as we start moving to the inviting rhythm of the music. Intimate, indeed.

  "Relax, Dani," he whispers in my ear. Every muscle in my body surrenders to his command, liquefying. I give myself to him, allowing him to guide my moves, to own my body. His fingers descend from my hips, intertwining with my fingers. The skin-on-skin touch is electrifying, zipping through me and awakening every inch of me. His grasp tightens as we lower ourselves toward the floor during the refrain, then rise back up, our hips glued to each other the entire time. I've always found this move a challenge for everyone who has mediocre coordination skills—like me. Somehow, I know Damon will never let me fall. Pushing my hair to one side, he bares my neck to him. I think he might kiss me there. His breath on my skin and the proximity of his lips drive me crazy with anticipation. I know I’ll combust the second his lips touch my neck. Except they don't. Such a tease. But two can play at this game, so I start moving more provocatively, pressing myself more into him as we dance. The effect is immediate; his breaths come out in short, intense puffs. I continue my ministrations, relishing when a deep groan reverberates from his chest.
It gives me a weird sense of power to know that I can undo him this way. The music changes, the rhythm becoming even more inviting and the lyrics so explicit they make me blush.

  "Dani, stop." He twirls me around. His eyes are hooded with desire, their electrifying green a few shades darker. "You can't do this, or I'll come in my pants."

  I giggle, tugging at my lip. "That's how everyone around us is dancing."

  "Well, maybe they've gotten more action than I have in the last year. My right hand isn't much to brag about," he says. I look at him in confusion. "I haven't been with anyone since you. Have you...?" A somber look takes hold of his features as his words trail away as if they’re too painful to utter. "Forget I asked that. It wouldn't matter. It was your right to date other people."

  "No," I whisper. I cup his face, forcing him to look at me. I want him to know this is the truth, to have no doubt. No matter what happens between us, I need him to know this. "I haven't been with anyone else. A few guys asked me out in London, but it didn't feel right..."

  "I’ve thought about that night so many times, Dani." He cups my face, too, our arms intertwining. The space between our lips is so small...it would take very little for us to kiss.

  "At times, I felt guilty for having made love to you. I wasn't sure how much the memory hurt you, but I couldn't bring myself to regret it. It made your memory too real and too raw. When I was in those dark places, Dani, all I had to do was think of you, and I'd go on."

  "You really haven't been with other women?"

  "No." He presses his forehead to mine, closing his eyes. "Is that so hard to believe if you didn't?"

  "Men are different from women.”

  "Not when we love," he says. My breath hitches, my heart thundering in my chest. Everything around us fades. The music, the people, the party altogether. Time seems to stop too, or at least pause on this very second. Yesterday seems like a lifetime ago, same as all the days since his lips last touched me. "I know the rule is that first kisses come after first dates, but then again, we've always made our own rules."