CHAPTER 2:
I awake with a jolt. Where am I? I rub my eyes as I turn my neck. Shit! My head is throbbing louder than the music at the bar last night.
Last night.
I look around. The room looks like it could belong to some famous celebrity, maybe Ashton Kutcher, or Leonardo DiCaprio. As I suddenly feel a warm sense of comfort, I realize that I'm laying in a bed.
Wait.
Who's bed?
Wait.
Damon...
Suddenly. I remember what happened last night. I put my head in my hands as the images come flashing before me like a montage. Why was I so stupid? I spot two pills on the nightstand, and I scoff. When I move the glass from the table, I see a tiny yellow Post-It underneath. My eyebrows knit together as I carefully pick it up.
Just take it.
My mind suddenly clouds as I deduce what his message means. Is he threatening me? I wouldn't be surprised, if I'm being honest. After last night, I have absolutely no idea who the hell brought me here last night.
After a slight pinch in my head, I sigh as I scoop the pills in my hand and pop them in my mouth, swallowing the water to wash down the medication. Suddenly wide awake, I swing my legs over the bed, my head already numbing. As I glance down at my small feet, I notice that I'm solely in sweatpants and my undershirt.
Wait.
These aren't my sweatpants.
They're far too big to be my sweatpants.
With my stomach suddenly blooming with uncertainty, I push myself up from the bed as I walk down a long corridor and into a larger room. The walls are a brilliantly medium-toned blue, and there is a huge plasma TV in the corner. As I near it, I feel in awe. I've never seen such a large TV before. I never needed nor wanted one for myself. I hardly watch Tv anyway, so I just saw no point. As I wander deeper into the room, I notice the overwhelmingly white kitchen and the beautiful crystal walls overlooking Richmond. Just as I wonder how far away I am from campus, I spot Whitmore in the distance. Maybe about a fifteen minute drive due to the city traffic.
"You're up," a voice says, causing me to whip around, my heart racing from being startled.
And when I catch sight of Damon shirtless, my ability to speak flies out the window.
Dear, god. As my eyes run over Damon's body, I have no doubt in my mind that my cheeks are surely beat red. My mind screams at me to turn around, but my feet seem to have a mind of it's own. Suddenly, I'm overwhelmed with the too short distance between us. I immediately scold myself as very inappropriate images of Damon flash before me. What's worse is the fact that even though I've never seen a guy shirtless standing in front of me like he is, I know that Damon is surely without a doubt one of the most beautiful creatures to ever do so.
Shirt or no shirt.
As my eyes trail down his front, I notice that he's wearing a pair of black sweatpants that hug his hips perfectly.
And my eyes widen in realization.
These are his sweatpants.
As I scramble to think of anything but that fact, a thought pops into my mind.
"Where am I?" I whisper, to nervous and embarrassed to speak louder.
He walks toward me, and I swallow, blinking. Unfortunately, I catch his eyes, and I'm reminded of their fierce gaze being on me last night.
Do not be affected, do not be affected.
"My apartment," he sighs. He stops right in front of me. "How are you feeling?" he says softly, though I hear his chilling tone.
"Alright," I nod, glancing downward in attempt to distract myself. "How did I get here?" I ask. He takes a deep breath, then sighs.
"You were drunk last night," he says bitterly, "And I brought you here because you passed out before I could get you to tell me where you lived," he adds.
"No, I got that part," I tell him. "I just don't understand why you thought that you could just take charge and pile me into your car without my consent."
"Elena, you could've been arrested for drinking while underage, which could've gotten you kicked out of college. Did you want me to have left you there with the risk of being arrested?"
"Actually, yes," I nod firmly, and the shard of hurt I see in his eyes lasts as long as my guilt as something comes into my mind.
"Wait," I say, crossing my arms over my stomach. "What were you doing at that bar? It's on Whitmore campus." I ask.
Suddenly, Damon sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. "Because I go there as well,"
Wait, what?
"Why didn't you say something?" I wonder. I don't know why I'm particularly curious about his answer, but I am.
"I would've told you, but it didn't cross my mind." he shrugs as he picks up a shirt and throws it on. I immediately relax as his body cannot be a distraction for me anymore. I need to be fully focused on this conversation.
"How come I've never seen you around campus?" I ask, frowning. Whitmore's a remotely small campus. No bigger than maybe five thousand students.
"I just transferred this year. And I'm not undergrad." he says, and I blink in confusion.
"Wait, how old are you?" I frown.
"Twenty-six," he says bluntly, and I suddenly feel as if I've offended him. "I'm in my fourth year of Grad school," he explains, and I assume he knew where I was getting at.
As I'm about to ask one more question, my cell phone cries from the kitchen, and before I can grab it, Damon beats me to it and tosses it to me. I place the earpiece to my head.
"Hello?" I frown, curious to who it is as I neglected to see the caller ID.
"Elena!" Caroline's voice squeaks as I imagine her waving her hands around in exaggeration. "Where the hell are you? You never came home last night!"
"Er, I called for a ride last night," I say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, but I know it's a weak try. I don't even believe it.
"From who?" Caroline asks.
Think! Or forever face the overwhelming curiosity that Caroline has been blessed with!
"Just..someone," I murmur as I shoot a glance at Damon. His blue eyes are fixed on me, and I imagine him wondering what my conversation is. Tearing my gaze from him, I draw my attention back to Caroline. Suddenly, I hear her sigh and begin to think I actually got her to back off, but then my hope is destroyed as I hear her gasp.
"Are you with Sexy Airport guy?" I hear her grin.
Busted, Elena. You underestimate the girl too much.
Knowing that no good will come out of lying to Caroline, I cave.
"Yes," I mutter, and my eyes squeeze shut as I hear a shriek on the other end of the line.
"Oh, my god!" she cries. "I knew it! You do like him!" she says excitedly. Knowing I can't nor wouldn't discuss Damon over the phone with Caroline while he's not five feet away from me, I seek an outing.
"Listen, I have to go." I say. "I'll be home soon."
Before she can ask or scream any more, I shut my phone and stuff it into my pockets of my pants. Er, I mean Damon's pants.
"I should take you home," he says softly. Relieved that the hard part is over. I let out a sigh, but he grabs my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes.
"I do apologize about last night," he says quietly. "But I just didn't want anything worse to happen to you," he says, and closes his eyes, as if recalling some unbearable memory. When he opens them they are soft.
"Get your things together. I'll drive you home," he says and walks away. What? Did I get through to him, or did he just feel guilty on his own? Deciding to stop over-thinking things, I turn toward the back room, and I'm suddenly reminded that I'm in his clothes.
"Um," I say shyly. He turns around to look at me. "I don't have any clothes," I tell him.
Damon smiles lightly. "Come here," he says, holding out his hand. For some reason, I follow and take it. And the feeling from the contact sends electric shocks resonating throughout my body.
Damon leads me back down the hall, but turns right instead of left. He opens the door to a room with a bed -which is barely noticeable as there are boxes surrounding it. He turns and unlocks what looks like a closet door, and in the bottom, a container full or women's clothing sits He's not married.. Is he? He's on college, so probably not. But just in case, I quickly glance down at his ring finger, which is not bearing a golden band. No wedding ring. A sister? I don't think he has a sister.
"Who's clothes are these?" I ask before I can stop myself. He frowns down at me, and I stare up at him, wondering if he'll answer my question or not.
"My exes, they've left their stuff here," he murmurs.
Exes? How many? Judging by the amount of clothing, I would say a lot, but I can't be sure. They could all be just from two girls, there's no proof.
I nod, unsure of what to say.
"Here," he bends down and throws me a green ruffle top, and a denim skirt. "This should fit you,"
"Let's hope so," I say, and when he dismisses himself quietly, I turn to him.
"Where's the bathroom?"
Damon's lips curl up at the corners, and he points to a door that's right behind me.
Duh, Elena.
"Oh, okay," I laugh, embarrassed. "Thanks,"
As I watch Damon's retreating back, I wander into the pitch black bathroom. As I flip on the switch, the light comes to life with a flicker, and a beautiful large marble bathtub is exposed. It's so big that I'm not sure that it's not a hot tub. Turning to the mirror, I stare at myself sadly. My make up has faded, and my hair is a messy ponytail, and I look the poster child for bed-head.. As I rustle the clothes in my hands, I glance down I look at the clothes, sighing. The shirt's cute, but not exactly my flavor. The skirt, however, is. As I take of my tank top, I feel a soreness at my arms. As I wonder what had happened to them, I remember.
Oh, right, I fell on them.
I slap my tank top onto the tiled floor, and as I slide on the green ruffle shirt, I catch a whiff of smoke. What the? Is this old thrift clothing? Or, were they burned? Ignoring the thought, I pull it down my stomach, and it's cuter on me than it is off, surprisingly. I slip off the sweatpants and toss them aside with my tank top and step into the denim skirt. Okay, I have to admit this is a decent outfit, despite my dislike for ruffles. I suddenly spot a hairbrush, and I decide to run it under water. Accidentally burning myself, I get the water to lukewarm, and place the brush under the running water. I bend down and grab my clothes, setting them atop the counter and place the damp brush down beside them. I quickly pull my binder out and bring the brush to it, gently running it through my hair. By the time I finish, I quickly wipe off my faded make up with toilet paper, and finally exit the bathroom with my clothes. I quickly run into the back room and fetch my purse, then make my way to the main room. Atop one of the island chairs, he is set, focusing intently on his laptop. As I approach him, he turns to me and shuts his laptop. As he gets up and moves toward me, I swallow nervously.
"Shall we go?" he asks.
I nod.
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