[Music recommendation: Electric" by Alina Baraz ]
Damon and Zendaya sat on the pavement, the night air cool against their skin, but the glow from the streetlights bathed them in warmth. The city hummed softly in the background, distant cars passing like quiet whispers. Damon slipped his jacket from his shoulders, his fingers brushing over Zendaya's arm as he draped it around her. The fabric was warm, and her breath hitched slightly at the closeness, the sudden intimacy. His touch lingered for a moment, just enough to send a shiver down her spine.
"I'm sorry," Damon's voice was low, sincere. He met her gaze, his expression raw with regret. "I never wanted to make you feel like you were just something to be conquered, used, and discarded. That was never my intention."
Zendaya's eyes flickered, uncertainty clouding her face as she glanced away. She forced a casual shrug, but her voice was small. "It's fine."
Damon's hands tightened on the jacket around her shoulders, pulling her just a little closer. "No, it's not fine." His eyes softened, the weight of his words sinking into the space between them. "I regret everything I said, everything I did. It wasn't just about... your body. Not anymore."
Zendaya's gaze snapped back to his, something flickering in her eyes—curiosity, maybe even disbelief. Her lips parted slightly, a breath catching in her throat.
He stepped closer, his face just inches from hers, the intensity of his words matching the heat of his breath against her skin. "At first... yeah, I was drawn to you physically. I won't deny that. But now… I feel something deeper. Something real."
Zendaya swallowed hard, her chest tightening at his confession, her pulse quickening despite herself. Her breath seemed to freeze, and for a moment, it felt as though the world around them had slowed. Her gaze locked with his, a question hanging in the air.
"I want to prove it to you." His voice dropped lower, rougher, like he was fighting against something inside himself. "I'll keep my hands to myself, keep my body to myself until I figure out how I really feel. Until I know I'm sure."
Zendaya tilted her head, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips, but her eyes danced with challenge, the teasing glint unmistakable. "And how long do you think you can last?"
Damon's lips twitched into a half-smile, his face hardening with determination. "Two weeks."
She couldn't help the laugh that slipped past her lips, breathy and almost teasing. "What are you, a satyromaniac?"
Damon's eyes flashed, and a playful glint twinkled beneath the surface of his deadpan expression. "You'd be surprised."
Zendaya's laughter faltered, her gaze narrowing as it met his, something unspoken passing between them. The air between them thickened, and Zendaya could feel her heart beating faster, louder, in her chest. She took a step closer, almost without thinking, and he didn't pull away.
"Fine." Her voice dropped, low and challenging, like a promise of something more. "I'll give you a month. But once that's over... what then?"
Damon's breath hitched, his chest rising and falling slowly as he looked down at her, his gaze darkening with unspoken desire. "When that month is up... I'll claim every bit of you."
Zendaya's lips parted, her breath catching again as a shiver ran through her, her pulse fluttering in her neck. His words struck something deep inside her, a mix of curiosity, desire, and something else she couldn't quite name. She could feel the heat rising between them, an electric tension that made her want to close the space, bridge the gap between them.
She barely noticed the way her body leaned into his, just slightly, a silent invitation or maybe a dare. The jacket around her shoulders seemed to vanish as she leaned in, her breath a whisper away from his. She swallowed, the challenge still in her eyes, but something more fragile—something vulnerable—crept into her expression.
"Then we'll see if you can keep that promise, won't we?"
Damon didn't speak. Instead, he just looked at her, the storm of emotions flickering across his face. His hands clenched at his sides, fighting the impulse to touch her, to pull her closer, to test the limits of what he was claiming. But he held back. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, his heart hammering beneath his ribs. She felt it too. She had to.
For a moment, the air between them seemed to still, and the city noise faded into the background, leaving only the pulse of their shared tension. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. It was as though the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of them sitting in the glow of the streetlights, both on the edge, both waiting.
---
The next morning, sunlight filtered through Kamsi's curtains, casting soft golden streaks across her room. She blinked awake, the light warming her face, but the weight in her chest remained heavy. The empowerment talk. A volunteer opportunity she'd been looking forward to—an escape from the unspoken tension that had stretched thin between her and her mother.
She dressed quickly, her movements brisk and mechanical. Her fingers brushed over the fabric of her blouse, smoothing out invisible creases as if the act alone could quiet her fraying nerves. Descending the stairs, she was greeted by a scent so familiar it stopped her in her tracks—rich, spiced tomatoes and a hint of charred chicken. Jollof rice.She furrowed her brows, the aroma tugging at memories of happier times.
Stepping into the dining area, Kamsi paused, her gaze landing on the table. A steaming plate of vibrant red jollof rice, perfectly paired with golden-brown chicken, sat waiting for her. Across from it, her mother was seated, her posture unusually upright, her hands clasped neatly on the table.
Kamsi's stomach tightened. Her mother didn't look up right away. Instead, she seemed preoccupied, her thumb idly tracing circles on the edge of her plate. Kamsi's throat dried as she stepped closer, hesitant to interrupt the fragile scene.
"Come, breakfast is ready," her mother said suddenly, her voice soft but strained, as if forcing herself to sound casual.
Kamsi stared at her for a moment, then cautiously slid into a chair, the legs scraping faintly against the tiled floor. Her fingers curled into her lap as she glanced at the food, her appetite clashing with the knot of unease in her stomach. Why this? Why now? After days of silence and cold stares, why was her mother making one of her favorite meals? Was this a peace offering or something else entirely?
"Thank you, Mom," Kamsi murmured, testing the waters. Her voice wavered slightly, and she cursed herself for the vulnerability that crept into her tone.
Her mother's lips curved into a faint smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. They flickered downward, her hands now still on the table. The silence between them pressed heavier, and Kamsi felt the tension in her chest constrict.
Clearing her throat, Kamsi decided to try again. "Mom, I'm going to the empowerment talk today. I volunteered to help. It's supposed to boost my grade… remember, I mentioned it?" Her words came quickly, as though speaking faster could lessen the awkwardness in the room.
Her mother's gaze lifted briefly. "Yes, I remember," she replied, her tone even, her face unreadable.
There was a pause, one that stretched too long for Kamsi's comfort. She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, her thoughts racing. Is this it? Are we going back to the silence, now?
But then, her mother spoke again, surprising her. "How about I drop you off?" The offer was tentative, her voice gentle yet laced with a vulnerability Kamsi couldn't miss.
Kamsi froze. Her heart stuttered, caught between the unexpected gesture and the plans she'd already made with Xavier. She thought about his cocky smirk, the way he always seemed to draw attention to himself, and how he'd teased her when they'd arranged to go together. Disappointing him would likely mean enduring hours of his relentless taunts later.
But this—this was different. Her mother's words felt like an olive branch, fragile but meaningful. Rejecting her would feel like snapping it in half. Kamsi swallowed hard and forced a smile onto her lips. "Sure, Mom," she said softly, the tension in her voice betraying her inner conflict.
Her mother's smile widened just a fraction, the stiffness in her shoulders easing slightly. She nodded, reaching for her coffee cup with steady hands.
As Kamsi picked up her fork, she couldn't help but wonder about the shift in her mother's demeanor. Was this a one-time gesture, or the start of something new? Her thoughts flickered back to Xavier briefly, imagining his exaggerated scoff when he found out. But the weight of her mother's actions anchored her in the moment.
For now, this truce, however tentative, was enough.