It Was One Time

Savannah

~Soooo does that make me not a virgin anymore?~

He did technically enter me.

~And sweet baby Buddha did it feel good!~

No wonder they tell you to wait until you’re married because just for that one entry that’s all I can think about now.

Damon was soaked, dripping from the spray down Percy gave the both of us.

I matched him on the outside and inside.

My panties lay on the grass behind us when we got to our feet.

Percy’s date, standing in the kitchen, the hand held to his face like he had never seen a biker prince and a goddess caught fucking by her blond-haired cousin who broke them apart by water hose.

I bent and grabbed my panties, stuffed them down my shirt. At the same time Dallas came running in like he was going to save lives.

Damon and I soaked from head to toe stand close together with more water dripping from our hair.

Percy turning the water off, his date now under the impression we were getting arrested.

Dallas looked at us and went to Damon first, but I blocked him, stepping up as a shield and throwing my hands out.

“Nothing happened! Why are you here?!”

Dallas knew something was up. He looked from Damon to Percy and back at me. No one saying anything.

“Why are you two soaked?” He pointed down at us.

“Because we were hot. Next question.”

~Not a lie.~

~I’m still on fire.~

“Why?” His tone clipped.

“Global warming. Next question.”

When he looked past me to Damon, I jumped and blocked it.

“My guest, my house, my questionnaire.”

Dallas turned away and stared Percy down.

“What happened?” He used his cop voice.

I saw Percy begin to squirm. I waved my hands and folded them into a praying stance.

I mouthed “please!” and begged Percy to lie for me. I know it was wrong and he doesn’t lie like this.

If it was Uncle Jonah he would have already folded. Percy can’t stand up to him at all. I have no idea why.

If the roles were reversed then I would have lied my ass off for him but I can’t blame Percy if he doesn’t have it.

I knew the rules and I broke them anyways.

~But fuck! Can you blame me?!~

Damon is hot as hell.

Pun intended.

“They were…”

This is it.

Damon will be taken out in handcuffs.

Never allowed back.

I will have guards at school, grounded, maybe an ankle monitor?

Who knows.

This is it for us.

“Fighting. I sprayed them before Vannah could hit him. Damon just got in the way.”

~There is a God!~

~And he is merciful!~

Dallas believes Percy, asking him what we were fighting about. Percy lying again, saying something about music.

How Damon thinks Slash isn’t the greatest of all time, which Dallas believes one hundred percent I would fight over.

~I would and have.~

~Slash is the greatest. Fight me.~

Leaving us alone, we stand quiet and still.

The front door opening and closing.

The slow clap of Percy’s date makes all of us turn his way. Open mouth, jaw dropped and this look of amazement sparking in his eyes.

The pink curls he has styled on top of his head with the faded purple dusted up his shaved sides bounce with every clap.

“That…was…magnificent! I have never…that was a clusterfuck of emotions. Better than any theater I have ever been to. Bravo.”

Percy and I laugh it off, him shaking his head and walking to his side.

“Savannah, this is Quinn, Quinn this is my cousin, Savannah.”

I hold my hand out and walk over. Quinn takes both of his hands to shake mine.

“It’s a pleasure. An absolute pleasure,” he fawns. On closer inspection his eyebrows are sculpted perfectly and in the same color of his hair. It’s really pretty.

“Quinn, this is Damon. Damon, Quinn.”

I wave between them. Damon doesn’t move or wave, no type of friendly vibe to come off him. I look his way, warning him to be polite and shake his hand.

“Angel,” I warn. I will not put up with any of this behavior towards Percy or his friend.

Damon offers a nod which the both of them accepted.

“Can you give us a minute?” I looked between Damon and Percy.

“No, I can not. Last time I found the both of you locked and loaded.”

“Percy, I swear to God, watch from the safety of the house but I ~need a minute~.”

Quinn takes Percy’s elbow and pops his lip-liner-laced lips to edge him away.

“I want to see the next show. Come with me, Apollo. This is going to be good.”

Giving me a look of warning, he walks off.

The slide of the glass door and the wave of the curtain to show both of them watching has me turned away and walking back over to Damon.

My yellow “yes I do want fries with this shake” shirt is like a second skin to my upper body. The bundle of fabric scratches at my boobs to remind me my panties are still tucked away there.

My honey-brown hair is like a sticky sheet of thick wavy curls falling all around me.

My shorts, on backwards.

I can feel the wind pick up and blow the top half of my ass from the undone zipper.

“Sooooo…” I look up to find him staring at me. I can’t help it but start laughing.

My hand goes to cover my mouth, my body shaking from the roaring laughter that rocks my entire frame.

My eyes being unable to open and the burn of my lungs not getting air makes me laugh harder. My hands on my knees and this fun form of torture egging me on.

Damon’s laugh falls in, his hand on my back and the sound of his belly shaking fit like the best soundtrack I have ever heard.

“I’m so sorry,” I manage to get out.

Shaking my head and holding on to him, we pull up, tears in our eyes and our faces hurt from the forced laugh still trickling and falling from our lips.

“I’m so sorry, Angel.” My lips twisted up, a smile clear and proud on my features.

“I’m a mess.” I lay into his touch, my chest to his, the feeling of his cold leather is a welcome reminder of how pathetic this is.

My forehead to the bottom of his chin, his arms laced around my body to pull us closer together. His skin is warm.

He still smells like that cologne I never wanted to like but now find myself taking deep hungry gulps just to fill my chest with it.

~I want him.~

I can feel it, and I can’t hide it.

I can’t lie to myself and say this is only a getaway, stolen moments that make my day better.

I think I crossed some type of imaginary line that broke through my wall.

~I like Damon.~

And I want him to be ~mine~.

“Can we be scary honest with each other for the next sixty seconds?” I murmur to his Adam’s apple.

He stiffens in my hold.

“Why?” He is already on the defensive.

“Oh you know, for funsies.” I shrug my shoulders and look up. “Because…we kinda need to be. It’s the only thing left to do, I’m afraid.”

It’s the truth too.

I am afraid.

Damon has made me afraid more than any other person to walk this planet.

I meet his dark eyes with my hazels and feel this twist of worry in my gut.

I can feel it fester and rot away.

Before, I never worked for a boyfriend.

I either had one or I didn’t, and never did I have to work for it or hide it. It always just happened. None of them ever had what Damon does. None of them made me feel the way he does.

And that’s terrifying.

For the first time in my life, I feel…

On the edge of heartbreak.

I know this is a bad decision.

I just hope it’s not one I will regret.

I actually care, whether or not he likes me the way I like him. Just thinking that makes me want to punch myself in the face.

“It’s just us here, my Angel.”

I encourage him.

With a nod, he looks around then back down at me.

I get the mouth sweats and the sticky lump in my throat like some love-sick, prepubescent child that is about to confess her love for the rockstar.

I am the rockstar here.

I am the goddess.

I am the catch.

And fuck these broken feelings inside me for making me feel anything other than that.

“I…” I swallow hard. The words I want to say like a fever coming on to make me sick.

“There is a lot of stuff between us.”

I keep my gaze, my sentence bare, the meaning deep and brutal.

“A lot of…what our families want. Or say. Or hate. And all of that is in our way.”

The words lift from my lips like poison being vaporized and blown off into the wind.

“Family is family…”

~This is it.~

I say the words and it’s out there.

Never to be taken back.

I have never been a coward and never have backed down from a fight.

So why the hell do I feel like Eminem in ~8 Mile~ before he walks in on his girl getting fucked by his best friend and turns savage on the underworld?

My heart races through me like it’s on a slingshot and is boinking around.

“Is this worth it to you?” I stand tall, my head held high, chin in the air, fists locked at my sides, my shoulders squared like I’m about to fight him.

~Well, I am.~

His jaw clenches and his eyes harden.

“Is ~what~ worth it?” He takes his own fighting stance. I feel like we just walked into a game of Mortal Kombat.

I can hear “Fighter’s begin!” ringing in my ears.

“Being more than ~friends~,” I hiss back.

My fangs descend, and venom is ready at my sharp, needle-tip points.

Damon’s evil smirk comes over us like the shadow of Death Eaters at the Wizarding Cup.

“Do you think because I stuck my dick in you that makes you special?” He laughs coldly and steps forward right as I slap him across the face.

Like he stepped into my hit.

My blood boils and fire shoots into the pit that was festering with fear.

“I am special, because I am Savannah. I don’t care how many holes your dick has fallen into before me. I don’t give a first-time fuck about your past.

“I’m asking you. Right here and now, no bullshit or family feud, morally-sound shit that everyone else keeps trying to feed us.

“Do you, Damon, ~want~…maybe something. More than friendship. What, I don’t know yet, just more.”

I stand toe-to-toe, chest-to-chest, both of our faces turned red with the anger sprouting and taking root deep inside the both of us.

“More ~what~, Savannah? More fighting? More almost fucking? More what! Tears? You run away from me crying! Or passing out from whatever shit is fucked in your head. More blood? More pain?”

His words cut me. Like a dagger in my back.

“When it’s just us, when no one else is playing from the sideline, we are fine. More of that!”

I want to kick my own ass for sounding so weak.

“You have no idea who you are talking to! I’ve let it slide and played along for my own amusement, but the gag is getting old.”

He pushes past me to leave.

My hand at his elbow, I turn him back, shoving him with harsh pushes to the fence we just came from.

“Go, then! Run back to your daddy! Fall at his feet and beg for his approval, Damon. Tell him how you hate every Madis to ever exist because he told you to!

“Let daddy call all your moves! Have him think for you since you obviously don’t have a mind of your own!”

I shove him one more time and stand right in front of him.

His lips thinned to white lines, tucked into his mouth like he is trying to hide them from me.

His eyes like two black holes to suck me in, his pale skin turned red from the slap to his left cheek.

“This would never work.” He shakes his head, the red mark on his cheek shows my handprint. His tone drops to a real and honest one.

Like he is looking at me, at what we could maybe be.

“It will if we fight for it.” My own voice shows the same thing.

“Fight for ~what~?” He steps away from the fence and lets his hands drop loosely at his sides.

“For this.” I take a running jump, my arms at his neck, my thighs spread apart at his waistline, my legs latched onto his sides.

My lips crashing to his like my own personal brand to show the world how I want this man.

My hands drown into the wet onyx black strands glued against his head.

I pour everything into my kiss.

The way he pisses me off to no end and helped the fire inside me roar back to life.

How he is my personal vacation, my snow day from the mundane and fuss of my life.

How being at the bar around his brothers is like a second home to me even from the few times I have been around them.

How having Damon in my life has brought parts of me back together.

How his douchebaggy ways actually make me happy even when I’m fighting him.

How I don’t want this to end.

How I like him.

How I want him to be mine.

I don’t know how much of this I want or if we won’t fuck each other’s lives up, but I’m willing to see where this goes.

I’m willing to see this through with him.

To fight for this.

~For him.~

I pull back, my eyes open wide and looking at Damon.

“The odds aren’t in our favor, my Angel.”

My lips sting from our kiss.

“But I don’t give a fuck. Do you?”

His black sinkholes burn me with their intensity. Like eyes of the night, dark circles of absolute nothingness.

My heart sinks so low the longer it takes for him to answer, I swear I feel it at the bottom of my foot.

Damon’s tense expression drained away, like the water droplets that still rolled, ran and dropped from our wet bodies.

“You’re forbidden fruit, Savannah. You have no idea what you’re asking.”

His face tilts in, one arm bound to the back of my hips, the other splitting my shoulder blades and stuck in the mess of sticky hair that’s glued to me.

“Yeah, I do.” I lift his chin up, my fingers spread out to take a handle up with his ears in between my grasp.

Staring deep into his black eyes, seeing my own reflection and not giving the tiniest garden of Eden snake in the grass, forbidden desire’s fuck about what’s to come.

“I’m asking you to take a bite.”

My lips back to his, softer than I’ve ever kissed anyone before.

Taking a page out of his own book, I give him my softer side. My gentle and nurturing side. The one I didn’t know I could show if it wasn’t after a protective fight.

My lips to his, like delicate petals that have to bloom slowly, like an orchid.

I don’t move my hips, no grind or sway, no sexual lusting haze to overcome this singular moment.

This is just a kiss of love.

His lips, like the right amount of water, oxygen, and sunlight to strengthen and help me sprout out, to take root and blossom.

We melt together, mixing and creating something beautiful.

The kiss of the girl who runs to the train station in the 1940s, her dress ghosting behind her as she breaks through the crowd of other soldiers going off to war and most likely not returning home.

The girl skates onto the platform, calling out his name—something like John—at frantic volumes. A window of the train will fall down and John will call out to his girl—Rosemary or something.

She’ll run to him, the train whistle screaming in the distance. Her guy hanging out the window to give one last goodbye kiss. The train starts to move and she runs with it.

Yelling her promise of love and a family when he returns.

That kind of kiss.

The kiss of a promise to be together, no matter what kind of battle they will face.

The kiss of a promise sealed between two lovers waiting for their future to come together in a more peaceful time.

For a future together.

For a fight they will both have.

But one they will do together.