I wake up to the smell of bacon wafting into my room. Getting up, the bed gently moves and Amelia groans beside me.
"Stop moving! My head is being bashed in by bricks."
I freeze in my actions. I never had a hangover so the typical brain-exploding feeling is foreign to me. "Sorry. Why don't you try to eat something? It's supposed to help."
"Bring it to me, peasant."
I mimic her words, walking towards the kitchen. Even when she has a hangover, her attitude persists. Damon greets my eyes. He's adorning a red apron and bed-ridden hair. It's a cute look, but somehow he makes it look manly, hot even. My feeling from last night stir in my stomach.
Should I say something? What if he doesn't feel the same? What if I only made our connection up from last night? Maybe I can wait to see if he says anything.
I hesitantly enter the kitchen. What do I say? What do I do?
"Good morning, Rose. How do you feel? Is Amelia up yet? Brandon woke up with a massive hangover so he's still on the couch, but I feel pretty good so I made everyone breakfast."
"Morning. Since I feel great and Amelia's hungover, I was appointed her peasant. I get to bring her breakfast in bed. Lucky me."
"Better than us being stuck with drills in our heads. When Brandon and I were teenagers, we went to this one party. I think it was Michael Deen's party or maybe Jenny's. It doesn't even matter. Either way, we went to this party and I had tried alcohol before but it was one beer at dinner. I didn't feel anything so I thought I had this huge tolerance. Needless to say, I drank like 12 beers that night and woke up in the bathroom with the biggest migraine. I don't remember much, but Brandon likes to tell me how 'I threw up enough to fill the toilet three times over.'
"That day, I felt so nauseous and absent from reality that I laid in bed all day with my curtains shut, vowing to never drink again. Of course, that didn't happen, but I learned my limits. I am not invincible when it comes to alcohol. I know my limits and I've never had a hangover since."
"I always pictured you as knowing exactly what you were doing. I thought that you always had a plan and were indestructible. I guess I'm similar to your teenage-self. It's nice to hear stories that make you less perfect."
"You thought I was perfect?" He raises his eyebrows, a cocky grin on his lips.
"Keyword: thought. I didn't know you then. I like to think I know you a little better now. I mean, after everything you have told me."
"You do."
"Actually, I wanted to talk about last night. You know, since we are already talking about us anyway. Wait, that came out wrong. I don't mean us as in 'us' as in a couple, but us as in two people who are tal-"
"Rose, you're rambling. I know what you mean. Continue."
I don't know what to say, how to approach this. Should I just be direct and say "after dancing with you last night, I realized I have feelings for you and would like to explore it to see where this goes. Are you game?" I shake my head and take the subtle I'm-going-to-stutter-over-every-word-I-say approach.
"Th- thank you for coming to my rescue on Friday. I didn't want that guy near me." He nods and I swallow thickly, here I go. "I enjoyed Friday. Dancing with you was a lot of fun. You- you're, uhm… you're a lot of fun." I laugh nervously. I'm being lame and going nowhere. "I would like to- to…" I trail off, unsure of what I am trying to say. "Maybe we could do that again sometime. You know, maybe just me and you. At the club. Dancing again. I mean. But just us."
I want to slam my head against the wall. I once thought I was intelligent, but after that short monologue, I must sound like an idiot. I sure feel like one.
Surprisingly, he lets out a small laugh. Maybe one of relief or just because I was rambling and stumbling over what I was trying to say and either it was endearing or comedic.
"I had a great time Friday too." Shutting off the food, he stalks toward me. I back up only a few steps, his hands on my waist stopping me from going anywhere else. "I would like to go dancing with you again. Just you and me, of course. Except there is one thing I would like to change."
My heart had fluttered in my chest at his confession of wanting to spend alone time with me, but it sinks and freezes when he said he wanted to change something. What could he want to change? We had a lot of fun. I thought we did.
But we must have! He said he would go with me again. He wouldn't have said that if he didn't enjoy himself? Would he? What if he was just trying to spare my feelings?
He tilts my chin up, breaking my pessimistic train of thought. I didn't realize he was standing so close to me. Did he get closer to me when I was lost in thought or was he like this when he stopped me and I didn't realize?
Unintentionally, I zone out again. He clears his throat, my chin still resting on his finger. "I want you to go out with me. I want other men, and women, to know you are mine and only mine. I want to be able to kiss you without worrying that you don't want me to touch you that way. I want to call you my girlfriend and take you home for the holidays to meet my family. What do you say? Will you be my girlfriend and go out with me tonight for dinner?"
My head spins. Is this actually happening? Did he just reciprocate my feelings and ask me out on a date? I slyly pinch my arm to make sure this isn't a dream. Bringing my eyes back up to his, he stands there patiently, waiting for me to respond and determine our future relationship all in one little word.
"Y- Yes. I would love to."
He lets go of my chin, moving both of his hands to the side of my face instead. He stays silent. The air crackles with the same tension from last night. It pushes me closer to the man in front of me. I'm hyper-aware of his scent, the calloused skin of his hands, the fast beating of his heart. Everything.
I have never felt more alive. I have never felt closer to anyone than I am to Damon in this moment. I am empowered by my feelings.
Without warning, Damon's lips are on mine. Slightly chapped, but soft and plump. They mold and mesh with my own, a perfect fit. Our lips were made for each other. I tilt my head to the left, his automatically going to the right. We kiss deeper. It feels familiar and right. Oh so right.
His tongue snakes out and swipes at my bottom lip. I have no choice but to open my mouth and let him in. He invades all of my senses. He is all I can taste, smell, and feel.
Our tongues do a sensual dance. Twisting, turning, teasing. It leaves me panting, wanting more. Unconsciously, I moan. I never want this to end.
He pulls my body into his, every part of me is touching every part of him. Every hard muscle of him, every soft curve of me. I wrap my arms around his neck, pushing his face closer to mine. Desperately, he lifts my body up, my legs wrapping around his broad waist. Our mouths never break apart. He pins me against the wall, pushing himself impossibly closer to me.
He pulls away from me, leaving warm open-mouthed kisses from my lips to the hollow of my throat. I tilt my head to give him more access.
Impatient to have his lips back on mine, I drag them away from my neck and crush them with my own lips, plump and red from his kiss.
I devour him as he devours me. I can't get enough. I need more. My mind is hazy, all other thoughts gone. He's the only thing I can think of. I claw at his back, desperate to get closer. He groans, tugging me back into his arms. No longer leaning against the wall, I clutch onto him.
We are interrupted with an absurd "ahem" from Brandon. So lost in each other, we miss Brandon and Amelia waking up and coming into the kitchen because of our noises. Can't he see that we are busy?
Ignoring it, we continue mauling each other's mouths. Nothing tender about our want- our need- for each other.
"Damon," Brandon calls, breaking our bubble.
I pull away, letting my legs fall to the floor and fixing my hair. I want to shoot them both a glare. They could have retreated quietly.
Breathlessly, Damon turns around. "What?" His voice is harsh.
Good. He is as affected as I am.
"We need to talk. Now," Brandon stresses.
Groaning out of annoyance, unlike the one he made a few moments ago, he drops a chaste peck on my tender lips. "I will see you tonight. Pick you up around 7?"
I kiss him back just to feel his lips on mine one last time for a few hours. "Yes, I can't wait."
Damon and Brandon walk out the door, leaving a squealing Amelia behind.