Chapter 22 â I Won't Say
The interior doesn't disappoint. It is as beautiful and grand as the shell of this man-made paradise. The backyard is so wide that it can even accommodate a horse race anytime. Growing flowers and gorgeously trimmed bushes and trees add to its exquisiteness. It's like one of those Disney castles.
I can imagine Damien growing up here. It must have been a whole lot of adventure having all the luxury in the world, all the servants at your disposal, and most of all, all the fun to do anything without worry. Damien has all these. No wonder he's got no idea how suffering feels because he's never had a shred of experience of it. That's why he can easily play around people who suffer a lot and doesn't even feel ashamed about it. He's always on cloud nine; my eyes can't deceive me. It's not that he's primarily and purely evil, he just hasn't felt how it sucks so he must have not known. Somehow, I pity him despite the big fortune he has in his pocket. Even though he's intelligent, there are also some other things he does not know and will never get to know. With this, I slightly have the upper hand. Damien, after all, can't always have everything. I know I sound a little bitter for having the biggest share of suffering while he doesn't even get a tiny percent of it, but I'm trying to shift its undesirable facets just so I feel better.
As we enter through the large foyer, marbled and all shimmering with crystal chandeliers atop me, I can't help but establish contrasts between my life and his. I am not even an inch of his toe in terms of financial stability. Though he isn't explicitly shoving it on my face, it's like he's mentally telling me that I am so little, I don't belong here.
Or it just my insecure ego telling me so.
Damien hasn't even breathed a word about me being financially challenged, and here I am, all gritty to judge him. He's nothing but nice the entire time. He drove me to his place without his crazy old tactics. Astonishingly, he has been sensitive and cooperative to me. No teasing and no face-palming arguments ever occurred, which is quite new to me. He was very silent â creepily silent, I must say, that even I wonder if he lost some screw in his head.
The whole time, I pressed my palms together, praying Damien won't bring the kissing topic. For sure, I would lose the dispute. I haven't regained the confidence to say something smart as a counter. Maybe I will never be since he's already found out my secret.
Has he or has he not?
"Are you okay, Angel?"
I quickly pull back before Damien could land his hand on my forehead. There's a glint of worry on his face, but I will never have the courage to assume that the concern was for me.
"I'm fine," I reply as swiftly as I can while shaking the heat off my face.
A skinny old man with a balding head in a neatly pressed raven black suit comes to greet us with a warm smile. With the way he walks and the manner he gestures his hands like we're some royalty, he's most probably the butler.
"Good morning, sir," he says as he lightly bows his head to Damien. "I have everything arranged as you ordered."
"Well done, Thomas. Thank you." His friendly nature surfaces.
"And what can I do for our guest here, sir?" He turns his scrutinizing gaze on me. His funny little mustache moves up and down as his gaze travels from my head to my toes. He honestly reminds me of old Maurice, the janitor at the west building of our campus. I actually wish I can read Thomas' mind and know what he thinks of me. Not that I worry what he could be thinking about me, but he might perceive things the wrong way, and I don't think I'm even in the right place to correct him if ever he's gone in that direction. Not with Damien around.
"Tea will be lovely, Thomas," I hear Damien speak with so much eloquence and grace. He is not like this when doing speeches at school, nor even talking to teachers, and most definitely not with me. He's sharp-tongued. Yes, he can be overly tactless, but this Damien beside me sounds entirely foreign to me. He speaks like a high-born royal.
"As you wish, sir. Thomas, the butler, bows his head again before he side-steps past us.
"Wow! That was so England!" I exclaim.
"You better get used to this." He bites his tongue. "I mean, people here act and talk like some Lancastrian and Yorkist expatriate."
Then it comes to me that the research may take more than a day. Therefore, Damien's correct to say that I may need some getting used to.
"Just tell me when they get on your nerves, and I'd tell them to lie low," he adds.
"Thomas doesn't seem to be the friendly type," I say.
"He is when you get to know him more."
He takes me by surprise when his hand touches the small of my back with utter gentleness and caution, leading me through the wide and long corridor.
"He's been with the family for I don't know how long. The earliest memory I have of him is when he was chasing me in the garden when I was two, I guess." The boyish smile emerges, and it easily takes me into the realm of curiosity once more.
I have no idea how long I have been staring at his gorgeous set of white teeth, but I thought I can spend my whole life staring at him. It's only when he pats me on my shoulder that I realize he's noticed me entirely enraptured by his rather enchanting smile.
"Angel?"
Oh, God! I totally screwed up there. Ugh! The ground can swallow me now. By now, I mean pronto!
"I'm s-sorry..." Stuttering, I quickly remove my gaze from him and stare at my interlaced fingers. "I was just admiring the tapestry behind you."
But Damien doesn't seem to buy my excuse, and a shadow of that smile remains to continuously hunt me.
"You won't believe me, but that's actually a copy-cat from London. Mom was furious she couldn't convince a collector to sell the original, so her vanity led her to fake one. Don't tell anyone, okay?" He winks at me.
There are portraits of men in war uniforms and ladies in pompous Victorian outfits. No analogy is required to guess that these people were probably Damien's ancestors. There are paintings of war and exquisite landscapes that are so gigantic, they can fill the walls with their size. Vases and statues line along the carpeted floor. Instead of getting caught gaping at him all over again, I decide to feast my eyes with this bounty of beauty and history.
We reach one huge door with golden carvings that look like spiraled tree branches.
"And this is?" One eyebrow of mine raised high.
This can't be his bedroom, I begin to think.
Hold on right there, Angel Mohr! Why are you even thinking about working in his room? my conscience yells at me, deafening both my ears.
"This will be our modest abode for the meantime, Angel," he utters almost in a whisper as he slowly twists the knob then pushes the door forward.
I could cry now. Every beautiful mansion must have this kind of library, I thought.
The walls are lined with wide bookshelves that stand as high as the ceiling. Books of all kinds, leathered or not, swamped the place. There's a grand staircase in the middle cloaked with crimson runner, linking the first floor to the second and the third. A huge window connects the three floors, and through them, I could see the view of the curved roads that took us here. Just now, I realize that Damien's house sits on top of a raised terrain â a mountain so to speak. This just means one thing, he owns a mountain. Who knows? His family might even own those four mountains I could see not far in the horizon.
My legs are glued to the ground. The sight is as majestic as it gets. This is so far the best place I've ever been.
Who would think that the person I used to awfully hate would bring me to such a beautiful place? With overwhelming joy slowly creeping into me, I fight back the tears by slackening my breathing.
"This is where we're working?" I ask, my mouth dropped.
He nods.
"I can't believe this!" I exclaim. "This is like a dream." I don't even know if I can do the work properly with all these distractions. The books are all enticing, and I already want to get my hands on every shelf I can. My fingers are itching to get hold of the papers, my nose missing the scent of the parchment and ink.
"Are you sure I can... I mean, your parents might see this as trespassing."
"Angel." He steadies me with his hands on my shoulders then leans forward to focus his gaze on me. "We're going to work on this together, remember? I didn't bring you here to make you feel uncomfortable. I chose this place because I know this is the only place we can work together peacefully. This is the only place I know you'd love to be."
How did he even know that?
"Sorry for prying a little, but I can't help looking into the favorite list of the girl I like." He runs his fingers through his dark hair while hiding his shy smile and reddened cheeks. "Besides, we got everything we need here."
"Maybe we should begin now," I say, moving two steps away from him toward the long table where two laptops are placed.
If Damien continues being nice to me, I won't know how I'd continue responding to him. I can't always step back and look for something else to do. I'd be with Damien for a day or more. I should learn how to compose myself and maybe shrug off the uneasiness if I want this whole process to be free of complications.
Perhaps he should just stop being too nice.
Eight hours, and I'm already deadbeat. Damien brilliantly did all the problem analysis and extrapolations while all I did was put in the data he provides me to the computer and hit the print button. I feel useless. I'm not dumb to not notice how he works so single-mindedly while I, on the contrary, didn't even have the slightest idea of what we are trying to solve. I'm just not into social science. I'm more into creativity and imagination than logic and objectiveness.
I am not surprised with all the work he did. Even before I was included in this, he has already finished a quarter of it, and now we're almost halfway. I could even walk out of here, and the productivity rate will not be affected at all.
I'm not complaining here. It's just that I'm amazed at how many difficult tasks the Damien Etheridge could do without breaking a sweat.
It's running six at night, and the sky is slowly turning deep orange as the sun retires. I'm gradually feeling light-headed, but I keep myself on the ground as I see Damien so serious with the datasheet in his hands. Over the brim of my laptop screen, I secretly watch him pace around while reading the datasheet.
I can't figure him out really. This time, he's showing the serious school boy aura... but not to a geeky level. He doesn't look an inch like that. He's one hot nerdâ borrowing Ray's wordsâ if I can consider him as one, though.
"Are you hungry?"
Facing me, I just know that he's caught me again watching him. Just how many times has he caught me stealing glances at him?
"Yes." I quickly went back to work.
"I'll go down and check on Thomas. Dinner is probably ready," he says before sauntering through the door.
Through my peripheral vision, I note Damien halting right in front of the door and taking a quick glance at me with a soft, amused smile on his face.
I bury my face in my hands and wish I could give myself a knock on the head for acting totally head-over-heels over him. If it weren't because of Ray leading me to discover these totally unwanted and disturbing feelings for him, I might not be as self-conscious as I am right now. I could have preserved a little composure.
I stretch my legs and arms and yawn. I am really sleepy and exhausted. Not even the occasional cookies and fruit juices could keep me alive for eight hours. Now that the source of my uneasiness is temporarily gone, I think I could relax for a bit. My lungs have regained the freedom to breathe freely and my heart to slow down for a while.
The sunset is inviting. I have always wanted to go outside and feel the breeze gently turning cold on my skin. There's a glass door that connects the library to a tiny balcony that overlooks the garden. And so, I head there and excitedly cross it like some fairy who's just gotten out of her flower house.
It wasn't only Damien who caught my attention for the past hours. There's nature and the eagerness to be one with them. From time to time, I'd sneak a peek outside to unwind and relax my strained eyes.
I feel the grass smoothly brush the soles of my feet. I left my doll shoes at the balcony and hurriedly run towards the lawn.
I wonder how long it will take for the sun to completely vanish behind the mountains. There I see the moon slowly coming out and stars appearing, outnumbering the number of city lights on the horizon.
Realizing that Damien won't be arriving any sooner, I decide to stay outside for a while and watch the sky manifest something spectacular. Throughout the day, I've only seen the blinking cursor on my computer and the several letters and words that don't even pique my interest. I want to see something majestic other than the booksâ and maybe Damien.
Feeling under me the softness of what seemed to be a huge feathered pillow and the sleekness of cotton and satin, I groggily open my eyes.
I HAVE FALLEN ASLEEP!
I turn to my left, and the sleepiness fades away in the speed of light when I recognize Damien sleeping like a baby beside me.
Just where am I?
It doesn't look like we're in his bedroom. I could still distinguish the high shelves of books, the gigantic staircase, and the huge window in which the velvet drapes are raised high to showcase the unique splendor of night time. We're still in the library.
I must have fallen asleep in the garden while watching the sky and waiting for Damien. Most probably he'd seen me there, and by virtue of his uncommon gentleman-like conduct, he carried me back inside to the round resting couch just sitting near the fireside.
It isn't cold nor is it too dark. The chandeliers aren't lighted, but the fire in the hearth keeps the entire library from being entirely engulfed by the darkness and cold.
Damien is peacefully sleeping beside me. He must be very tired, and I don't think even tapping him would wake him up.
He does look so calm and peaceful. For a moment, I thought this night could have gone in a completely different direction if the Damien I am with was the same person as that one night in his apartment. But he's not that man anymore, or so I am led to believe.
I like this kind of Damien.
I like the sleeping Damien, the calm and silent one... the one who can't twist my stomach and obscure my thoughts unlike the awake and smiling Damien. This way, I can perfectly contain my sanity.
But he won't be sleeping forever. He'd awaken soon, and soon enough he'd flash that beguiling smile and smooth talk me, and my mentality would collapse again. This peace won't last long, so I better use this to my advantage.
Get the perfect image of this Damien.
Memorize how he looks with eyes closed, with expression blunt but innocent as a small boy, and listen to the rhythm his breathing makes.
Raising my fingers altogether, I silently reach for him. Moving to my left side and leaning over close to him, I take a clearer view of the serene Damien.
Should I or should I not?
My fingers feel cold as they near Damien's face despite the warmth the hearth is emitting. I'm not nervous. How can I be when he can't even see me? How can I feel threatened when Damien doesn't know I am planning on touching him? He will not even know about this.
Gradually, my trembling fingers touch the tip of his nose.
It isn't that bad after all. He won't know.
It is amusing to see his face move while I run my index finger along the bridge of his nose, to his eyebrows, then back to his nose again until I find myself wanting to touch his lips.
Should I or should I not?
He won't even know, I tell myself.
But there is something more to it. Touching his lips is a bad idea, after all, I thought after wanting more than just touching them.
Damien has done it, freely and wilfully, so why can't I?
His lips feel really soft and warm, and I feel like wanting to taste them. This time, I want to do it on my accord. Not that I'm curious, but I want to do it because I want to.
I want to feel his lips on mine without surprises, without force or denial but only wanting, desire, and expectations
He won't know.
I lean over, close my eyes, and slowly planted my lips on his.
I am not mistaken. His lips are really smooth, and I can melt into this feeling for a long time until I feel like stopping... until he tells me to stop.
As I run out of air, I slowly pull back. The waves of my hair fall down the side of my neck and shoulder, touching the side of his face. And when I open my eyes, I see two stupefied gray eyes, glaring at me, swarmed with questions but not repugnance.
We stare at each other, none of us moving. I feel my chest heaving for air. It has never been this tight.
Damien has awakened. He's just caught me again. This time not just stealing glances.