Caught in Us

by Layla Hagen

  "We saved you a seat at lunch," she says when I sit on her other side. "Where were you?"

  "The history teacher kept us a little longer to explain something about an assignment."

  Chase grimaces, shaking his head. "Why are you taking history? It's the most boring class in the history of the world. No pun intended."

  "Because she's taking a variety of classes." Hazel picks up the schedule I've printed out. A strand of her hair has caught in the corner of her mouth, but she's oblivious to it as she looks at the piece of paper incredulously. "Are you insane?"

  "No, I am testing out the classes. The advisor said that's what the first weeks are for. I can drop any classes I'm not interested in afterward."

  "I am pretty sure the advisor didn't mean you should sign up for every class," Hazel insists.

  "I didn't sign up for all of them, just more than average."

  "The average is three," Chase says.

  "No, it's five." Hazel turns to him with her eyebrows raised.

  A sheepish grin spreads on his face. "Yeah, well, I totally brought that number down last semester when I signed up for zero classes before you kicked my ass."

  "I'll keep five courses at the end of the period," I promise.

  "I hope you will, Miss Indecisive."

  Her comment stings, but I mask it with a smile. She knows me too well. Miss Indecisive is the perfect description for me right now, and it kills me. I prided myself during all of high school that I knew what I wanted to study. After discovering in London that I don't like it as much, I feel lost and confused. That's why I want to try everything, even business courses like this one, even though I've never been particularly interested in business.

  The professor comes in. He’s a plump man in his fifties with too much mustache and too little hair. Still, despite his almost comical appearance, he exudes authority because the murmurs die down immediately. I listen to him for a few minutes before I feel something. I can't explain it—it’s like a magnetic pull, and I turn sideways. My heart does a somersault as my eyes find Damon sitting on the opposite row, all the way back. He smiles my favorite smile, the one where he gets delicious dimples and his lips curl in a way that says I am preparing for mischief. His gaze rakes over me, sending flaming darts shooting through me as I remember the way we danced two nights ago and how it felt to have his lips on mine again. I force myself to look at the professor and take notes, still feeling Damon's gaze on me.

  I can't help stealing a glance at him every now and again. He's a different boy than the one I met in senior year. He had a perpetual look of anger on him, and he seemed so lost. Now he's eager and focused. I might be lost, but he isn't. Damon is not a boy anymore; he's a man. And just like in high school, he attracts stares from about every girl in the room. Some of them try to be sneaky, only looking at him every now and again. Some don’t bother at all with manners, gawking at him like he’s in the room for the sole purpose of fulfilling their fantasies. I get jealous only imagining what they’re thinking about. His devil-may-care appearance exudes sexiness. It’s like a magnet. I can hardly blame anyone else for staring at him when I can’t keep my own eyes off him.

  Midway through the lecture, the professor announces that the class will be graded based on a project that will last the entire semester and that we are to complete in groups of two. He suggests we start looking for a partner sooner rather than later, and that if we plan to drop this class we do so now and not waste his time for two weeks. I automatically turn to Hazel, but Chase puts his arm around her shoulders before I even open my mouth.

  "Sorry, love, but she's the only person who likes me enough to spend an entire semester working on a project with me."

  "She's my best friend," I retaliate, as if this somehow nullifies what he just said.

  "You took off to London for half a year. You snooze, you lose."

  "You're impossible. Hazel?" I eye my good friend closely, though I know it's a lost cause. My phone buzzes, saving Hazel from telling me that to my face.

  Stop trying to separate the lovebirds. How about you and me pairing for the project? I peer at Damon out of the corner of my eyes, squirming in my seat when I realize his gaze is fixed on me. I am very good at Googling and picking up wine for late nights, which we'll spend studying, of course.

  I try to ignore the delicious shiver running through me as I text back. I'm not a wine girl. Anyway, Hazel and I have enough junk food to last us a year's worth of study nights. If you behave, I can even give you some pussies. After I press send, I look at him anxiously behind my shoulder. For some reason, he bursts into laughter as he reads my text. I look again at what I wrote. OMG. I meant cookies!!! Cookies. Stupid autocorrect.

  My phone chimes again, spiking my blood with that wonderful adrenaline that flirting brings. Do you want me to believe you still haven't learned to turn off autocorrect after all this time? I think it's easier if you admit you want me. Even your autocorrect thinks you should.

  I barely concentrate as the professor wraps up the class.

  "I was hoping you'd argue over Hazel some more." Disappointment colors Chase's tone. "You're so much fun when you get all bossy. Did the cat get your tongue?"

  "No," Hazel intervenes, pointing at my phone. "Damon did. I bet he asked her to be his project partner."

  "Ah, that explains it. I bet he'll be eating something else before long."

  "You are gross," I say, but as we make our way to the door, I can't help remembering how it felt having Damon's mouth down there all those months ago. Damon himself waits outside the class, propped against the wall. Chase wiggles his eyebrows, looking from Damon to me, and Hazel punches his chest lightly.

  "You didn't answer," Damon says. "Do we have a deal, partner?"

  "Yes, we do," I say confidently.

  "Fantastic," Chase announces. "Now, can we all grab a coffee?"

  "I have fifteen minutes before I have to go to the next class." I check my schedule. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Damon's jaw drop as he peers at my schedule. I know he's taking fewer classes; James informed me yesterday that Damon started working for him. He didn't give me many details, so I can't wait to question Damon.

  "Exactly how many classes are you taking?" he asks.

  "Never mind," I reply, jutting the piece of paper in my bag.

  "He's just worried he won't have enough bang time between classes," Chase adds helpfully.

  "He’s practically begging me to kick his ass," Damon mutters under his breath as Hazel and Chase walk away. "So, about that date you promised me...when can I kidnap you?" Damon says in my ear, bringing back all my dirty thoughts from earlier.

  My voice is a whisper when I say, "Friday."

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Damon

  “I don’t think we’ve ever had an intern who works this much,” Francine, James’s HR head, comments on Thursday night. Francine, James and I are inside the elevator—the last ones to leave the office. I’m used to hard work; I’ve been doing it for years. It’s a welcome change to spend my time doing something where I can use my brain instead of my knuckles.

  “I won’t stay as long tomorrow,” I tell James. “I have a date with your sister.”

  James narrows his eyes. “If you hurt her, I will beat you up.”

  “I used to fight, remember? I’d knock you out in no time.”

  Francine’s eyes widen. “He’s got a mouth to match his brain,” she says. The elevator doors open, and we get out. There is a guard behind the reception, nodding at us before we exit the building.

  After Francine leaves, James grabs my arm. “Take care of Dani.”

  “I will,” I assure him. He lets me go reluctantly, heading to his car while I mount my bike.

  I can understand his skepticism, but I won’t make any mistakes this time. The year I’ve been away from her has been excruciating.

  The stint in boarding school was just what I expected it to be. A bunch of over-privileged teenagers stuck together twenty-four-seven...the level of
snobbism was astonishing. There was no way to let out steam through fighting while I was in there, so once I got out in June, I threw myself into fighting with a vengeance. I travelled all over Europe, using the money from fights to finance myself. Until I met Dani in London last fall.

  The thing is I knew I didn’t want to keep fighting, and I desperately wanted Dani back, but I wasn’t doing anything to change my situation. I travelled a lot, and met more people than I can keep track of, but I missed her every day. Seeing Dani again was a wakeup call. I applied to Stanford for the spring intake the day after I saw her.

  Now I have a job I’m proud of and am about to get my girl back. This time, I’ll do everything right.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Dani

  "What are you going to wear?" Hazel asks as we inspect the clothes I laid out on my bed.

  "No idea. He didn't say what we’re doing." It's Friday, and my date with Damon starts in one hour.

  "Oooh, he does have a knack for mystery, doesn't he?" She fiddles with the hem of a light pink dress. It's cute, but who knows what Damon has in mind.

  "You can say that." Finally, I decide on black jeans and a pink shirt with long sleeves. "This should be safe for everything, right?" I ask Hazel after putting the clothes on.

  "Well, Damon's seen you wearing tent-sized t-shirts. This isn't bad, but it's not first date material. Why don't you sex it up a bit?"

  "I have. I'm just not showing it." Flashing a smile, I push down the waistband of my jeans half an inch, revealing the upper hem of my thong.

  "Dani Cohen," Hazel says, clutching at her chest dramatically. "Are you wearing lace lingerie?"

  "Yes, I am," I declare proudly.

  "My, my, my...teens these days."

  "It makes me feel sexy, even if I’m not showing it."

  "How long till he'll be here?" Hazel props herself against the windowsill.

  "Half an hour. I'm a bit too eager." I already put makeup on, and perfume, so I'm ready to go.

  Looking out the window, Hazel says, "I think you're not the only one who's eager. He's already here."

  "What?" I hurry to the window. My heart does a somersault when I see Damon leaning against his bike. He has on a leather jacket and messy hairdo. His casual appearance screams, I’m sexy and I know it. My knees go weak, my body aching for him, especially the parts covered in lace.

  "A bad boy through and through, isn’t he?” Hazel asks in amazement.

  "I hope so." Every nerve in my body lights up with excitement and fear.

  "Go. Don't make him wait."

  My legs seem to have turned to lead, and Hazel practically has to shove me out the door. With every step I take, my heart hammers stronger against my ribcage, and when I get outside, I have the distinct impression it will burst.

  Damon stands up straight when he sees me, taking his hands out of his pockets. "Hi."

  "Hi," I whisper back. When I see the desire burning in his eyes, I feel naked in front of him. "Nice ride."

  “Did you miss it?”

  “Yeah.” I missed him more. “You love your bike, don’t you?”

  Lolling his head to one side, he grabs my hand, pulling me to him. His hands slide around my waist, entrapping me. "I don't love my bike. I like it. I love you."

  I melt on the spot; I truly do. His intoxicating proximity and his words spike my blood with fire. He tilts my head up, caressing my lips with his thumb, then kisses me. With this one kiss, I know I am his entirely. No matter how much time has passed, or how much we’ve both changed, this hasn't. His kiss wipes away every anxiety, every doubt. When he pulls back, I’m left with a cold sense of loss. "Time to gear you up."

  I slip on the jacket and helmet he hands me.

  Once we’re both on the bike, I ask, "You're still not going to tell me where we're going?"

  "Nope, but we won't ride for long."

  "Can I guess?"

  His lips twitch. "You can try."

  The next half-hour passes in a rush. We pull off the highway, driving for another fifteen minutes and then stop in a parking lot where there are three cars. The place around us is deserted, except for closed stores and a gas station. From somewhere in the distance, the ripple of a river reaches my ears, barely audible. Damon takes my hand without hesitation, leading the way. I let him guide me without a shadow of a doubt. His hand feels smoother than I remember—there are no recent marks from fights. They've healed nicely, just as Damon has. We trudge through the open field for several minutes. I suspect our destination is the hill rising in front of us, though I can't imagine why. I bite back the temptation of asking if he has a plan, but then we reach the hill, walking around it. When we stop, all I can do is stare.

  "I knew you wanted to go bungee jumping for your birthday, but someone told me you didn't."

  "Hazel." I take in the giant platform rising high, very high up in the air, squinting to see the few people milling around at the top of the platform.

  "James, actually."

  "Right. You’re working for him...You and my brother are getting a little too cozy already. I’m not sure if I like that."

  "Why not?"

  "You are both strong-willed and very smart. If you two put your heads together, you'll be unstoppable."

  "Why's that bad?" His green eyes bore into mine with an intensity that makes the air ripple with a wave of hot tension. It's so thick and palpable that I could bite into it.

  "It's not. Let's go up."

  "I'm actually going to wait for you here. I'll bring the bike around; didn’t realize there was space for it here.”

  “Aren’t you jumping?”

  “No way in hell. I’d pee my pants on the way down.”

  “Hohoho, you ride a death machine on two wheels and fought for a living, and you’re afraid of bungee jumping?”

  “Hey, everybody is afraid of something. I have a fear of heights."

  "The fearless Damon Cooper is afraid of something."

  "I always thought people misunderstood the word fearless. If you think about it, it means fear less. Doesn't mean no fear at all."

  "Okay," I say, fighting to keep a straight face. "Wait for me here."

  "You'll kick ass. Go."

  As I make my way up the platform, a pang of fear sprouts inside me. Eventually, I reach the top, and a guy my age greets me. "I'm Max. Dani Cohen, is it?"

  "Yes. How do you know my name?"

  "Your boyfriend mentioned it when he made the reservation," he says. Warmth travels all over my body at the word boyfriend. I pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming, and then grit my teeth to stop a yelp. I overdid the pinching, and it hurts like a bitch. Max wastes no time getting the gear ready.

  I look up in the distance while he gets me prepped, trying to find Damon. From up here, I have a direct view of the parking lot beneath. He already brought the bike here, but he isn't next to it like I expected.

  "Ready? Your boyfriend seems eager for you to get back down."

  "What?"

  "He's down there, possibly thinking he can catch you if the rope breaks."

  "No, he doesn't." I giggle. "That would be silly." I approach the edge of the platform, looking down. So that's why he wasn't near the bike. He holds a poster-sized paper above his head. I'll catch you if you fall is written with huge letters on it.

  Excitement bubbles up in my chest, getting out in a roar-like laughter attack. Max laughs with me, too, shaking his head. Deep inside my belly, butterflies wake up to life. Damon might not be able to catch me now if the rope breaks, but I know he'll be there if anything else goes awry. Another staff member appears next to Max as he nods, indicating everything's set, but I don't move, fear suddenly gripping me. This is insane. I eye the ground again, trying to calculate the distance. Why did I ever think this was a good idea? I try to remember what twisted logic led me to want to be up here. Oh, yeah, I wanted to get out of my comfort zone. Bad, bad idea. People flirt with strangers or have a Brazilian wax when they try to get out of their comfort zone
. They don't decide to jump from God knows how many feet up, possibly to their death.

  "Is there any chance of the rope breaking?"

  "Less than one in a million."

  "But there is a chance," I say through gritted teeth.

  "You can jump whenever you're ready," Max calls. He and the other guy are right behind me, waiting for my signal so they can get me started.

  I don't move, stuck to the edge of the platform, without the courage to go forward. I am so not ready. But sometimes getting unstuck means taking a jump even when you're not ready, so I do. I signal Max, raising my arms to the sides and leaning forward, gasping as my feet leave the platform. The fall is quick, a hole springing up in my stomach, getting bigger and bigger the lower I go. I hurtle toward the ground like it's nobody's business, and when the air is so cutting that my eyes water, I close them. That very second, I feel a pull around my waist, and I bounce back upward. Cold panic grips me, making my heart beat with lightning-quick speed. The up and down movement goes on for a while, and when I open my eyes, the world is upside-down. At first, I can’t make sense of anything. I try to hone in my eyes on a familiar point in the sea of unknown, but even trees and roads look foreign when viewed upside-down. Eventually, my eyes settle on the only unchanged point: the sun.

  My heartbeat steadies as I use the sun as a point of reference and then slowly place everything else. Mental note for the future: when everything looks upside-down, it’s enough to find one point to ground myself. Then things become clearer.

  As I am pulled up toward the platform, something much more dangerous replaces fear. Nausea. I close my hands over my mouth, tasting bile at the back of my throat, breathing in deeply as I'm being pulled up.

  "You okay?" Max asks when I’m on the platform and he removes my gear.