Chapter 23 â Grey and Dull
Damien leans over, eases himself up into a sitting position, and gawks at my ashen white face. He studies me like how a newborn watches his mother with total curiosity and wonder.
There's no use of hiding, I am already exposed â my bare face entirely blazing with trails of fire everywhere.
Oh, God, what did I just do?
His arm lands across my waist to support me in case I fall back into the couch. Not a very good idea since it renders me helpless.
I hear my heart hammer against my chest, screaming for a way out, exhausted for always being the victim of denial. I lost the strength, the energy, and even the confidence to stay away from him. Not after what I did a while ago, and with him this close to me again. The only logical way to react to this is to climb off the couch and pretend that I was dreaming when I did it.
But before my brain cells can begin to look for an escape, Damien has already trapped me with his lips crashing into mine. The unexpected connection emits electrifying current from where his mouth is to my limbs and deep down into my stomach that I can no longer distinguish if it's air in there or just simply the growling of a hungry stomach. He isn't kissing me like a wild beast would. Damien is as gentle as I was when I kissed him like a graceful ballerina carefully tiptoeing at the beat of the music. And it's the gentleness that compels me to not stop him from doing what he's doing.
I know I shouldn't have lost myself there.
I know I should have fought the temptation to feel those lips on mine. I know what I did was wrong.
But it feels so wonderful, I can't blame myself for enjoying it and at the same time want more of it.
As the kiss breaks, I find myself shyly and gauchely gasping for air. I feel like I'm at the edge of the cliff about to fall, but with Damien behind me ready anytime to hoist me up.
Our noses brush each other briefly, our foreheads touch, and with one quick look, his mouth curves with contentment.
"That wasn't hard, was it, Angel?" he asks, still holding my face with his hand.
My throat dries as I feel him kiss me on the forehead. It's only Dad who does this to me, and now him.
"My Angel," he whispers, smiling, with both his hands cupping my face and his fingers caressing my cheeks, assuring me that I am already his.
Our travel back to the city seemed to be dreadfully long. Neither one of us was speaking. The sound of horns and screeching tires became my companion for an hour. The traffic jam near downtown area made it worse. I didn't even dare move to my left as I was afraid Damien would start a conversation. There's nothing much different between riding the car this morning and tonight. An awkward silence fills us, and endless sighing indicates that both of us are expecting something nicer to happen before the night ends. I have no idea if Damien likes this gap between us, but he isn't doing anything to alleviate the situation.
Honestly, I am a little disappointed. Where is the loud and playful Damien Etheridge when highly needed? I want him to appear and just knock this deafening silence away. This is the best time to annoy me with his mischievous remarks.
When we finally reach home, his car pulls up right in front of our gate. I quickly loosen my seatbelt and open the door before Damien could walk out of the driver seat and open the door for me. Yes, I'm a little flushed and dazed after what happened in his library, but I am not completely incapacitated.
"Thank you for the ride home," I utter in one quick sentence without even meeting his eyes.
"Angel?" His voice has this power to seize attention. He goes on, "We can't always be like this. I understand you, believe me, I do. And I won't force you to accept changes right away, but always remember that nothing in this world can make me stay away from you. And I hope you do the same for me."
It's crystal clear. Damien wants to be part of my life, and he wants me to let him in.
His footsteps close in on me, and the hair on my arms stand as his touch rest on my elbow. He spins me around so I face him eye to eye.
"You know I like you, and I want you." His eyes undoubtedly speak of that. "I always fight for what I want, Angel. I will fight for you even if you keep on sending me away. I know I've been an ass, a terrible one, but I won't be that ass anymore just for you. You're different, and you deserve none of that craziness. Here's the truth..." he trails off and breathes deeply.
"I've only been doing those things because I want you to see me, feel me, or even acknowledge the fact that I am totally head-over-heels for you. Please don't ask me how it happened because I honestly don't know. It's a surreal thing, but I can't make it stop. I can't stop thinking about you. I can't stop liking you. I can't stop falling for you. I just can't, and please don't cut this pleasure of liking you, Angel. Please be a little considerate of me. I can wait. Just tell me when you're ready to open that door for me, I will be waiting." He bends a little and pecks my cheek.
"So how's your day at Damien's house?" Mom asks while tailing me from behind as I climb up the stairs. By the sound of her voice, she must be nothing but thrilled for all the reason I know.
"It was fine," I answer wryly, with no intention of disclosing a thing to her. "We're almost done."
"Wow, that's great!" She places her hands against the door when I try to close it on her face. "You and him make a really good partner."
"He's almost done even before I was there, Mom."
"Then Damien must be really intelligent."
"He is." I sigh. "Now, can I go to bed?"
"Of course, sweetie." She smiles at me before I close the door. She must know something at the back of her mind. Mom wouldn't just let me go like that. She's super adamant, but today, she let me off the hook so easily.
Horror strikes me when I see twelve missed calls flashing on the screen of my phone. Five came from Mom and seven from Ray. There are sixteen text messages too, and the majority came from Ray. He must be fuming with anger and craze-driven by curiosity at the moment.
Taking a deep breath, I call Ray back.
"Angel?" His voice is as loud as a trumpet.
"I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't have the time to check on my phâ"
"Your mother called me many times asking me if I can reach you by call," he interjects. She's worried that you're not answering your phone. She said you were with Damien... in his house!"
"I was. Haynes, remember?"
"Yes, but how much of an effort is it to answer a phone call, Angel?" He sounds really pissed.
"We were so busy, we lost track of time." I didn't have to say I fell asleep and Damien carried me to the couch, and when I woke up it was already late with Damien sleeping beside me. And most especially not the part where I kissed him.
"Heartless! You don't know how I distraught I was when I found out Damien's going to your house to pick you up. Now, that's definitely a development," he blabbers. "Of course, I expect you won't single out one detail, will you? I definitely need to know what happened."
Climbing on the bed, I bury myself under the blanket and let the fire within me dissipate. Apparently, the ghost of Damien's words and touch still haunts me, and whatever way I try to get rid of it, I seem to fail. Probably because I know I am the reason for my own downfall.
One single crazy act exposed everything about me, and now he's got his eyes on me, his expectations raising the mental and emotional pressure and the truth threatening to make me surrender completely. Most of all, the way he reacted to what I said was so unlikely. He wasn't killing me with his naughty and arrogant tirades. He was sweet, romantic, and gentle... so unlikely that I even thought for a second if he wasn't really the Damien Etheridge I know.
Even though I missed the devilish Damien, the 'new and reformed' him still gets on my nerves in a spine-chilling and emotionally twisting way. This is even deadlier, I guess. If he goes on like this, acting like a knight in love, there's no way I'd be able to resist his oozing charm. I'm afraid I'm on my way to doom.
"It's all paperwork, Rye," I lie.
"Well, that's boring!"
"And exhausting too!" I remark.
"But I think you're hiding something from me."
Lying on my back, I gulp for air.
"I'm not dumb, Angel. Come on, spill it out."
"Ray, you'll be the first one to know if ever there is progress."
"And there wasn't? This is so unlike you," he says. "You want me to tell you what I think? I think you're lying. I know you very well, Angel Mohr. When Damien gets into you, you complain. When you get in trouble with him, you complain. You complain when it's about that man. Now, tell me, where is that part now?"
"I don't complain all the time."
"Tell me one time you didn't!"
I honestly couldn't think of anything.
"Can we talk about this at work tomorrow? I'm already sleepy. I'm half-awake now." I manage to form a reserved smile.
"Then tomorrow it is!"
But I don't intend to sleep yet. I don't even think I could doze off after thoughts of him swarm in my head.
What got into me to even do it?
Now I lost all my courage to tell my best friend about it.
I begin to wonder about Damien being serious with what he told me. I'm just not used to this side of him. I don't even know how to handle his good side. What I am afraid most is when I become too relaxed, I'd find out I'm already on the same page of the book as he is.
That would be a lot of trouble.
The next day, Damien comes again to pick me up. There aren't many questions from Mom and Dad, so I am relieved that I won't have to lie all over again. We stay in his house for the rest of the morning, polishing what needs to be polished in the research paper. I'm not surprised when he showed me the complete draft once we arrived in the library. Perhaps, when I got home last night, Damien finished off everything.
"Haynes wants to see the results this afternoon. He's expecting us in his office, Angel," he says.
The earlier I get out of this, the better, I thought.
By four in the afternoon, the project is as real as a printed manuscript in leather binding. Haynes looks at the manuscript with tears threatening to burst out of his eyes anytime. However, I seem to notice a little doubt in them. He's asked Damien to get a copy of a certain thesis paper in the library as quickly as he could because he wants to check if we weren't plagiarizing someone else's work.
Damn this old man! Damien looked really pissed before he left for the library, and with that look on his face, I know he wanted to punch Haynes in the face.
"Didn't think you'd finish this in two days. A job worth a year completed in two days, I'd laugh hard when this turns out to be a joke." Haynes leans against the back of his swivel chair, his fingers interlaced together, smirking and glaring at me.
"Sorry for bluntly answering you, sir, but it is too unfair to us if you quickly judge it and say we plagiarized. You haven't entirely read the paper, you judged it right away." I don't think it's fair to put Damien's brilliance into the trash. He's worked for this day and night.
"I will have time for that," he says in his guttural voice. "At this moment, I feel you've failed me. It's just too sad to see you two fail when I expected a lot more from you."
It sounds like the deal is off. I wish Damien comes back now so he can rescue both our future. Maybe he can smooth talk Haynes, and all will be well.
"If you're not content with that one, we can always revise it, Mr. Haynes. There's plenty of time," I answer, my eyes straight on the door, anticipating Damien's appearance.
He chuckles, shaking his head while massaging his forehead with his fingertips.
"Damien and I can work at it again. It'll be ready by next week in time for graduation," I continue.
"Graduation?" His eyebrow raised in an arch as high as his hairline. "Oh, the bargain! I'm afraid I can't give you my part of the deal. This is poorly done!" he exclaims as he tosses the manuscript to the nearest trash bin. "It will be unfair on my part."
"But, Mr. Haynes..."
His eyes travel from my head to my feet, bearing that smirk that emits unwarranted, terrifying, and unsettling sensation inside me. Just the sight of it makes me want to puke.
"But maybe we can do something about this... your situation to be specific, Ms. Mohr." He crosses his arms over his chest.
"You're a bright student and a very interesting girl, I must add. I know you can do more than just fail this subject and miss graduation. Perhaps you can do something to remedy this."
Haynes walks in my direction, still with that unsettling smirk on his face. As he walks closer, I feel my legs shaking. He's up to no good. His aura's completely different now. Gone is the aloof, weird, and unsociable professor. I didn't even think he's got this side of him.
"I also think it's unfair to have only Damien get a taste of you," he mutters, his eyes hooded, dark, and threatening. "Why can't others be on Etheridge's shoes? I'll let you graduate, Mohr. Etheridge can wait for his turn. After all, he's just agreed to my terms because of you. If he finds out I let you graduate, he won't protest at all."
"Under what condition?" I ask. It wouldn't be good, I know.
"Somebody told me you're a pretty good convincer... just that you do the convincing in a very unusual way." When reaches me, his touch lands on my arm in no time and trails smoothly from my shoulder blade down to my elbow.
"Who told you?" Rage slowly rises within me, but at the back of my mind, I have quite an idea who.
Damien does nothing good for me, and it could be him. It's not a question what Damien might have told this old professor who I thought only cared about books. With the way Haynes is acting, I know what he wants from me. It's the same thing that jerk Etheridge has been troubling to get from me. He might believe I owe him something.
Damn Damien! How dare he exploit me! What am I, a slut? Does he think sleeping with Haynes is the answer for this misfortune? Does he think that I'm going to make the same mistake I did that one disastrous night with him?
Jesus! Why did I even think he's changed? Perhaps all this time, he's acting nice to me because he wants exactly what Haynes wants from me. He's nearly brainwashed me. This goody-goody act of him is not true at all. His intentions are beyond evil. He doesn't really like me. He just wants to prove his masculinity by ruining me. That's classic male domination rule. By doing this, he'd mark his status as the perennial hymen breaker in school!
If ever I come out alive, I will make sure to behead him! I'm going to destroy him! Make him feel I mean business! He's going beyond the explainable. If this is one of his jokes, this is no better than the others, and it's far from entertaining.
"Come on, Mohr. Don't play dumb." He shakes his head as though in disbelief. "Your class standing speaks more of you than this. Your papers are excellent, I don't think you can't analyze a simple thing like this."
"Clearly Etheridge has poisoned you." I feel a lump in my throat that I could hardly speak. My lungs start to feel congested, and I feel they are going to explode if I don't scream or cry. My legs are glued to the ground, like humungous roots of a big, old tree.
This is even scarier than that one night with Etheridge in his apartment.
This is even scarier than not marching on graduation day.
Haynes starts walking toward me. My legs don't even move, and I feel like puking whenever his eyes search me.
"Very good. You're behaving." He wryly grins. "This won't be difficult for me."
"Stay where you are!" I shout at him. For a moment, Haynes pauses, his eyes huge like an owl's, surprised at how brazen I could get when threatened.
This man is unbelievable! Does he really think I'm going to allow him to ruin me? I'd rather not graduate than sell my dignity for something I can earn with hard work and perseverance. If I need to find another job so I can finance another year in college, I would. But I will never degrade myself.
"I'm gonna scream!" I hold one finger at him, threatening him with all I can.
"Scream and they'll find out what kind of a woman you are," he retorts.
"Back off, Haynes!"
Haynes isn't retreating. He's fingers briefly slip from his pockets down to his zipper.
"Help!" I moan when his hand catches my mouth, and he holds me from the back.
The old man is strong enough to paralyze me with his one hand on my mouth and his other crossed around my waist. Tears start welling up my eyes.
Dear, God... Please no...
He pushes me against the table, the wooden edge hitting my stomach, and I feel extremely nauseous, feeling bile at the back of my tongue.
"You're not going anywhere, Mohr," he whispers on top of my ear.
My face is pressed against the smooth surface of his desk, his hand shoving my head harder against the wood.
"Just this once, and I'll give you what you desire most," he adds.
Tears fall down my cheeks. I couldn't shout. I couldn't scream for help. The pain he's inflicted on my back and stomach stops me from protecting myself.