~I watched my brother's truck disappear down the driveway, breathing heavily because of my screaming insults at him. A headache began to form in my temple, and I pressed a palm to it to soothe the pain.
"Ow," I grunted, stumbling unsteadily to the house. I went back inside, and was met with a pale hand holding some aspirin and a glass of water. I looked at Damon.
"If I take this will you leave me alone?" I asked hopefully.
"For the moment," he confirmed. I took the meds and drank every last drop of water in the glass. As I was walking, the glass slipped from my fingers, and I was braced for the impact of the glass, but Damon's white hand shot out and caught it before it could shatter to the rug running down the hallway.
"Nice reflexes," I said, walking to the kitchen. I rummaged through the fridge for a snack, and fished out a granola bar.
"It's nothing. I guess you can call it adrenaline," he replied.
I gave him a skeptical stare. "Yes, because fast reflexes and adrenaline are the exact same thing," I sneered sarcastically.
Damon huffed. "You're so mad at me, aren't you?" he concluded.
"And you just figured that out, Garbonzo?"
"Garbonzo? Another nickname? I need to put that on my list of nicknames."
"Don't forget to put 'Prick' and 'Dickhead.' Bye." I left him in the kitchen, and went to my room for a nice hot shower and my homework. I had only a little, and I could have waited until later, but it felt nice to get it done and out of the way so I could play around and snoop around the place later. After washing my body with cherry blossom wash and my hair smelled like lavender and roses, I plopped down on my bed and got started with my homework, putting in a CD into my music player. I liked my Ipod, but it was a pain to handle sometimes, and I liked to listen to full CD's.
Twenty minutes later, a soft knock at my door drew my attention from my listening to my Anberlin soundtrack in the little stereo next to me. I pushed pause, and called, "What, Damon?"
"May I come in?" his voice asked.
"Go away! I deserve my privacy from you!" I yelled back, resuming my work and soundtrack. My door opened anyway, and I flew up from my lounging position.
"What the fuck are you doing, you obnoxious bastard from hell?! Can't I get one day without you following me?!" I shouted, standing up. I placed my hands on my hips angrily.
He groaned and rolled his sky blue eyes. "You just don't like me, do you? I give you pain meds, and now you're yelling at me again," he muttered. I puffed up like a puffer fish and snorted.
"Yes, because pain meds makes me crap out sparkles and butterflies from my ass and dance around the room in a pink tutu!" I said sarcastically. Damon actually laughed at that, and he clutched his side from laughing so hard. I growled through my teeth, and, without even thinking, walked straight up to that son of a bitch and punched him square in the jaw. I had taken three years in tae kwon do when I was seven, and my Dad used to say I could punch a wrestler and break his nose because my knuckles were as hard as rocks.
Damon didn't flinch, but his face snapped to the side, and his smile vanished like dust. His laughter ceased, and the room became as quiet as a grave except for my breathing through my nose. He gingerly touched his jaw like it did hurt, and turned to me. His eyes somehow got dark like black clouds rolling over the sky in mid day. His amused expression switched to one of stone-hard anger and frustration. I backed up a step, and cringed at his look. Maybe punching him wasn't a bright idea after all.
"You really shouldn't have done that," he murmured with venom dripping in his tone. He stepped towards me, nose flaring like a wild animal who was angered. Well, Damon did have that wild feeling about him, so I guess he was part animal. But did he have to look so angry?
"Then get out," I replied shakily. I was now sorta scared of this guy's glare. Damon stepped towards me again, and for every step he took, I skittered back until he backed me into my dresser. I was cornered between my dresser and the wall, and I didn't dare push him or he would've done something that I wouldn't have liked. Oh, shit. I was in real trouble. Spencer gave pretty awful glares that made me flinch, but Damon's current gaze made me want to curl up underneath the bed and shiver with fright from his eyes.
"And if I refuse?" he said, not playing at all. Damon's long nose was touching mine, and his strange-smelling breath washed my face. I tried closing my eyes to keep his nasty stare from paralyzing me.
"Then..." Then what? Call the cops? Call Spencer? Call Stefan? Fight? Give up? Kiss him? I was out of options here.
"Then what? Get me into trouble? I'm an escape artist. So even if you called Stefan to come and free you, I would be long gone from this place," he muttered.
"Then escape out of my room. I thought of you to be more charming and a much better gentleman than this," I said. The look in his eyes made my mouth go dry and sticky, and my tongue stuck to my mouth with every word.
"Then don't punch me."
"Don't tempt me to punch you, then."
"You are pushing my buttons."
"Then..."
He kissed me then.