Damaged

by Ward, H. M.

  I bump him with my shoulder. “You’re a dork, you know that?”

  “Is it because of the dancing?” Peter asks, seriously, trying to figure out why people would say that about us. He looks baffled. Peter pushes his hair out of his face. It’s damp and curling at the ends.

  “Are you kidding?” I ask and he shakes his head. I smirk at him. “It’s because you’re hot. There’ll be rumors about anyone you talk to unless they see you dating someone, and even then… well, people are stupid. They talk even when there isn’t anything to talk about.”

  “Did they say things like that about Tadwick?”

  “Tadwick wasn’t hot. You are.”

  “And whose opinion is that?” He’s grinning at me. Peter bumps me with his knees.

  “It’s the word on the street. Personally, I think you’re a little too muscly and tan. I prefer my men frail and pasty. Sorry, Charlie.”

  “Peter. My name is Peter. Damn, Sidney. You can’t even remember my name.” Peter’s smile deepens and I can see a dimple on his cheek. They’re so cute. He is pretty to look at. I glance at a flock of girls behind him on the bleachers. There’s a pool of drool on the floor. They are all staring, their mouths gaping like Swedish Fish.

  I get up and smack Peter in the arm with the back of my hand. “Come on, professor. I want to dance until I can’t stand up.” I bound across the room with Peter on my heels. I stop and turn suddenly. He nearly slams into me. Time freezes for a moment. The air feels hotter, the night feels electrified. Peter lifts his hand. I press my palm to his. The touch is charged. I feel it down to my toes. I grin broadly. I can’t help it. And we dance.

  Peter’s hands are always in modest places, but the way his hands slide over my skin and glide over my dress, well, it feels like he owns me—like I’m his to control. It’s weird. I’ve danced before, but this feeling never emerged. I danced to get away from my ex and my family. They weren’t interested. It was a place to find my balance and learn to endure my life. But Peter changed that. I’m no longer enduring. I’m laughing, sweating, and spinning. I don’t shirk away from his touch, either. That’s new. When we first started dancing together, I enjoyed it—I can admit that—but his hands made me nervous. Now they make me comfortable. I feel stronger, better.

  The music moves faster as the tempo changes. We’re laughing and some of the students stop to watch us. Peter asks as we dance, “Ready?” He wants to do a throw.

  I nod. I expect him to lead into the steps, but he doesn’t. Instead we step into each other and Peter spins me back and pulls me to him. I grin. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing. Just wondering why you trust me with throws but not—”

  “Death spins? I think it has something to do with the word death.” I laugh. The music pulses through me. Peter winds me around him and under his arm, then he snaps me back to his chest.

  “I think I could convince you.” He smiles down at me and twirls me across the floor. We separate for a few steps before he reaches for me again. I’m back in his arms. There’s a not much space between us. Peter holds me so close that we’re nearly touching.

  “I’m not wearing a helmet.”

  He laughs. “You’re so stubborn.”

  “You’re so not going to throw my face at the floor.” I grin at him. Peter holds up his palm and pushes on my back. I follow, moving under his arm. The music is in the right spot to lead into the aerial.

  “Are you holding out on me or are we doing this?”

  Peter yanks me close and my hips slam against his. My heart is pounding way too fast. “Let’s do it.”

  Peter leads me into the move, and I follow. A twist, a turn, and he pulls me hard. I roll over his back with my legs splayed. My skirt flares and I land on the floor. I duck, and Peter swings his leg over my head before he pulls me up into a twist. I slip up from between his legs, and he lifts me by the waist. I continue the move and kick. I feel the momentum as I swing upward. I’m smiling way too big. My stomach has that free-fall feeling as I come rushing back down.

  Peter executes the move perfectly and my legs fly around his waist. His hands cradle my back as dips me backward. The music stops. We’re both breathing hard. The silence becomes more noticeable. Peter holds me for a moment. The club starts clapping and Peter sets me down. He nods at me, as if it was a demonstration. Then, he goes into safety issues with those kinds of moves and invites the more advanced dancers to learn some of the steps we just did.

  A girl walks up to Peter. He holds out his hand and dances with her. That’s when I realize that sharing isn’t my thing. Peter looks beautiful, all rumpled and smelling like heaven. Stuffing my nail-clawing instincts back into the crazy part of my brain, I grab a bottle of water from the cooler. I watch him show a few girls the moves in slow motion. There are some guys there, too. He shows them where to put their hands and how to lead the steps.

  I guzzle my water and walk the perimeter of the room, trying to cool off. After a while, I head toward the open door. The night breeze feels good on my skin. I step outside. The sky is deep indigo, like a bottle of ink. There’s a speckling of stars tonight. I lean against the cool brick wall, feeling the rough stones through the thin fabric of my dress.

  A few moments later, Peter comes out. “Dinner?”

  “Sure. I didn’t get a chance to eat, yet.”

  “Good.” He nods and heads back inside.

  I’m standing there for a while, cooling off, when Tia strolls out. “Hey, that was so kick ass. Where the hell did you learn to dance like that?”

  I grin. “I don’t know. If you want something bad enough, you learn how. I thought it’d be fun, so I figured it out.” I shrug and take a drink from the bottle. “It isn’t as hard as it seems.”

  She nods and takes a drink from her own bottle. “Every time I think I’m in shape, I find out that I’m not. God, and no wonder why everyone is saying Granz is hot. He is a da-ahm fine piece of ass.”

  “Yeah, he’s got a great ass.”

  I don’t realize what time it is. I don’t realize that anyone is behind me.

  “Thanks, Colleli,” Peter says, tossing me my stuff. It smacks me in the stomach, but I catch it. “And all this time I thought you were saying I was an ass. My mistake.”

  My face turns red and my eyes go wide. Peter doesn’t stop walking. He keeps going, heading toward the parking lot. I shove Tia lightly. She’s laughing at me. “You suck,” I hiss. “You knew he was there.”

  “Yeah, I did. It was perfect. I had to.” She’s laughing, guzzling water from her bottle, nearly choking.

  “I’ll get you back. Just wait.”

  “Go ahead and try!” Tia yells, as I sprint across the parking lot toward Peter’s car.

  I duck inside, out of breathe. “I didn’t say that.” I feel the need to clarify as I click my seatbelt.

  “I didn’t hear anything, I mean, besides the comment about my super-fine ass.” He laughs and looks over at me. “I can’t figure you out. You act like we’re friends, and that’s it—then, you go and do stuff like that. You’re baffling.”

  “Baffling? No, I think you’ve got the wrong word. I’m…” my eyes cut to Peter, as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the road. I slump back into my seat and let out a rush of air. “I don’t know what I am. A train wreck. A mess. Damaged goods. Pick one. Or all three.”

  He shakes his head and smiles. “You’re a hot mess, an enigma, a poem—all raw emotion with nothing held back.”

  I blurt out a laugh, because he couldn’t be more wrong. “With nothing held back? I hold everything back.”

  “No, you don’t. You’re clear as crystal.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “And that’s how I know that I’m right. You do that a lot, you know?” I look at him. I have no idea what he’s talking about. Apparently, he can tell that I don’t follow. “You talk that way when I get too close to the truth. You get defensive and call me names. It means that I’m right.”

 
“It could just mean that I think you’re an ass, and nothing more.” I’m about to say I told you so when Peter glances at me. From the look on his face, I can tell he’s not going to let it drop.

  “Are you attracted to me, Sidney?”

  The question makes my stomach jump up my throat. I can’t look at him. I feel my face getting hot, along with the rest of me. I manage to blurt out, “What the hell? Who asks that?”

  “Uhm, I did. Are you attracted to me? It’s a simple question.” Peter glances at me, and then back at the road.

  Thank God it’s dark. I’m pretty sure my face has exploded into flames. I want to tell him that he’s a bad, bad, man but that sounds too juvenile, so I say, “You’re such a jerk!” I cover my face with my hand and look out the window. My pulse is roaring in my ears. I feel Peter’s gaze slip over my neck for a moment. Why does he do this to me? So what if I think he’s hot? It’s not as though we can do anything. It doesn’t matter. But still, I’d rather not say it.

  “Well, that looks like a yes. Should I tell you what I think of you?”

  “I don’t care,” I mumble, still looking out the window.

  “Oh. Well, then I won’t tell you.” He’s grinning, driving into the darkness to the restaurant on the other side of town.

  I expect him to continue teasing me, but he doesn’t say anything else. The silence spans between us and my mind latches onto the last thing he said. Now, I really want to know what he thinks of me. I can’t believe he can sit there quietly and not tell me. I flick my eyes toward him. Peter is still driving with that infuriatingly sexy grin on his face, as if he knows exactly what he did.

  I stare at the night sky and wonder why that question bothered me so much. Of course I’m attracted to him. Of course he already knows that. We nearly slept together. But that’s not it. It’s not what he knows that scares me. It’s what he doesn’t know. I’m attached to him. Given the choice to hang out with Peter or Millie, I’d choose Peter. He understands me better. He’s become my best friend. It doesn’t matter that he’s my boss or my teacher. I feel comfortable around him. I’ve grown accustomed to his voice, his face. Every time Peter steps into the room, every time he swings me around in his arms, I feel peace—no it’s beyond that—I feel happy. My stomach sinks as I wonder what that means.

  I think I know.

  I glance at Peter. I’m staring at the side of his face, drinking in the stubble along his jaw and the way his dark hair curls by his ears. His skin is so perfect, and his eyes—oh God—his eyes are like gemstones. When I look at them, it’s as if I’m lost in a beautiful blue cavern covered in sparkling sapphires. And for once in my life, I feel safe. I don’t worry about him hurting me, or touching me, or forcing me.

  I don’t realize how long I’m watching him until Peter turns and looks at me. He smiles softly and it feels like I’m in a free-fall. My stomach floats up to my mouth and I can’t speak.

  Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. My eyes are a little too wide when I look back out the windshield. My brain is chanting no, over and over again, as if it will erase the discovery my mind just made. My heart laughs. As if these things can be undone, as if it’s possible to fall out of love as easily as it is to fall in love.

  I love him? That can’t be.

  I deny it. That’s not what’s happening. It can’t be. I don’t love him. That’s insane. I don’t even know him.

  But you do, that sweet reassuring voice says in the back of my head. I beat her with a broom and stuff her in a closet. She’s usually the sane voice in my mind. I would have sworn that she is my reason, but that was not reasonable. I don’t know Peter, not like that. I don’t want to. I can’t—

  My frantic thoughts get cut off when Peter pulls into the parking lot. I’m panicking. Things aren’t the same as they were two seconds ago. I realized that I have feelings for the guy sitting next to me. Maybe I’m dense as a dinosaur for not noticing—damn, everyone else noticed—but I don’t know what to do now. Act the same? Pretend the thought never crossed my mind?

  I take too long to get out of the car. Peter walks around to open my door.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, as he offers his hand and pulls me up from my seat. Peter’s looking down at me with those eyes. I forget to breathe.

  He stands too close. I step away, and back into the car. Peter steps closer, closing the gap. He’s close enough to touch me, but he doesn’t. His eyes sweep over me before he asks, “Don’t you want to know what I think?”

  I shake my head slowly, careful to avoid his gaze, and tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “No.” My voice is too soft. Damn it. It sounds like a yes. I clear my throat and try again. I have to look up. I know I have to do it. Just say it. Spit it out as if it doesn’t matter, because once he tells me what he thinks, I won’t be able to let it go. I don’t want things to change. What we have is good.

  Looking directly into his eyes, I smile and say, “I don’t want to know what you think. I don’t feel that way about you.” The lie burns my tongue.

  He doesn’t back away. Instead, Peter stays there, watching me. He leans close to my ear, and says, “I think you’re beautiful, and that sharp tongue of yours…. God, I’ve never wanted to kiss a woman so much in my life. I will kiss you tonight. I won’t be able to help myself.” I shiver as he speaks. When Peter pulls away, my body is tense. My spine is stiff and my head is spinning like I’m falling down a rabbit hole.

  “I don’t know what to say.” I’m watching him, barely breathing. My eyes are locked on his lips, wondering if he’ll really do it.

  Peter runs his hand along my cheek; his eyes are on my mouth. “Then, don’t say anything.” He turns and walks away. He’s crossing the parking lot. I stand there, watching him head inside. When he pulls the door open, he looks back at me. “Coming, Colleli?”

  Peter’s screwing with me. He has to be messing with me. I blow off everything he just did and walk confidently across the parking lot. Screw him. Two can at play this game.

  Peter’s holding the door open. I turn to the side as I pass him, sucking in air. We’re too close. I do it on purpose. My chest barely brushes against his as I pass. The sensation shoots way too many tingles through me, but I know he feels it, too. The way he stops breathing and looks up tells me that it was completely unexpected.

  “Excuse me,” I say, way too breathily, before stepping away. Peter’s lips are parted. His shoulders are back, rigid. I turn toward the hostess station with a wicked grin. Peter is still sucking in air like he’s been kicked in the stomach. “Table for two, please.”

  Peter suddenly moves and steps toward me. I feel the heat from his body against my back. He whispers in my ear, “That was evil.”

  “You started it,” I say over my shoulder, smiling.

  We follow the hostess to the same table we always sit at. It’s our table. How did that happen? Peter steps in front of the girl and pulls out my chair and I sit down. The hostess stands there, waiting to hand us menus. Peter pushes me toward the table gently, and then takes his seat opposite me. His eyes glitter with mirth. He has a smug half grin on his face. For a brief second, his eyes drop to my lips. It makes me squirm in my chair. I can’t believe he said that before. He was teasing me. He had to be.

  “So,” Peter says.

  “So.” My voice catches in my throat.

  The way he’s looking at me, as if he wants to kiss me until my knees give out and I fall into his arms, makes me flustered. I don’t understand him. We’ve been hanging around each other since he arrived. Aside from the first night, Peter hasn’t overtly done anything. Has he? I suddenly feel stupid. What if all the flirting was real? I assumed it wasn’t. I thought he was teasing. Is Peter crazy enough to try and be with me, even if it costs him his job? He’s a new teacher. That would be incredibly stupid, damning the rest of his career. So what is he thinking? I have no idea.

  I start to open my mouth to tell him that we can’t do anything like that—no kissing, no nothing—when I see her wa
lk past the fireplace. Dr. Strictland’s face lights up when she sees Peter. “Dr. Granz, Miss Colleli. What a pleasant surprise.” She’s wearing a rich crimson suit that makes her hair look Annie orange.

  “Cyianna,” Peter says, “how nice to see you. Won’t you join us?”

  She shakes her head. “No, I came in here to grab a dinner and go over some papers for my graduate students.” She smiles at us and then looks at me. “I heard you were assisting the new dancing club.”

  “I am. We were just there. Dr. Granz is the sponsor.”

  She looks at both of us. “I see.” She says it as though she really sees something. Strictland looks back at Peter. “You know what; I think I will join you. I’ve worked hard enough and it’s been a long day.” The hostess brings another chair and Dr. Strictland sits down next to me. She pats my knee and I nearly jump out of my seat. She gives me a funny look. “Sorry, dear.”

  “It’s okay,” I lie. I hate being touched. My gaze lifts. There’s an exception to that rule. Peter somehow got around it. I smile nervously, wondering if we’re going to get in trouble, but Strictland doesn’t say anything about us being here together.

  The meal progresses normally. We all know each other. The subject matter flips between the university, the department, classes, and then to literature.

  Just when I think Strictland’s not going to mention it, she does. “I hate to ruin a friendship or make things awkward between the two of you, but certain things have come to my attention.”

  Peter smiles and shakes his head, “Cyianna—”

  “Peter, I know you well enough to realize that you won’t do anything stupid. But you’re young and Miss Colleli is younger. You both have roles to play, expectations to fulfill. Friendship is encouraged, but nothing more. I only see friendship here, and for both of your sakes, I hope it stays that way.

  “Sidney, I don’t need to remind you about your scholarship. The university will not pay you to retake classes due to sexual indiscretion.” Oh my God. Did she just say that? My face burns. I manage to nod. “And Peter, you already know the severity of this. I hope I won’t have to mention it again.”