Collateral Damage

C H A P T E R 32

C H A P T E R 32

HAPPY DOOMS DAY

Puppet

M y most resented day of the year. My jaw falls open, unable to close it, wandering over to the table trying to muster up the words to thank her but I'm unable to speak. I feel completely foolish with little to no make up on, no shoes or socks and no time to prepare for this. Meanwhile she’s stood there in a black shirt, most likely new, her black denim jeans and boots, cutting up vegetables with the sleeves rolled up and I suck my lips in, trying to ignore the fact that this is unnecessarily attractive.

She always slicks her hair back and I'm growing fonder of it by the minute. Everything about her is everything I would have resented. I was never one for the bad boys but I'm swooning like an idiot right now. She’s so dark and still full of mystery I desperately want to uncover.

“What is all this!” My hand takes the back of the chair, admiring the cute little red napkins and petals on the table.

“Well. I thought, as I couldn’t exactly take you out for Valentine Day, I’d bring Valentine's Day to you.” I frown with confusion. This is all so beautiful but why is she even going through all this for me?

“We aren’t even dating?”

“ Does it matter? ” No. But I hope she doesn't think we are. We are closer now, but we aren't that close. I've never been in any sort of relationship with anyone.

“I never took you for the romantic type.” A scary serial killer making me pancakes and doing a Valentines dinner is definitely not how I saw this turning out three months ago. I'll be honest, I thought I would be dead by now, if not from my own idiocy, then her getting sick of me.

“I’m not. I’ve never done this for anyone, so count yourself lucky.” I lace my hair through my fingers, tucking it behind my ear and a fire burns beneath my cheeks. There is something about seeing this sweetness in her that's sending me all sorts of crazy.

“I- I don’t even know what to say-” I take another look around, taking in the effort and holding back tears, imagining every birthday like this but being left with no one to share it with.

“You don’t need to say anything. Just sit. ” I sit without hesitation. She's showing kindness but she's still so intimidating it makes my hair stand on end.

“Are you cooking what I think you’re cooking?” I see her grin from her side profile, the tea towel tossed over her shoulder like a professional and it's making me smile like a little girl. My head rests in the palm of my hands as my elbow leans on the dining room table.

“I told you. I’m the jack of all trades.” She did. I indeed underestimated her. I'm swimming in this overwhelming ecstasy.

“You didn’t have to do all this. This is too much.”

“Trust me. If it was up to me, I wouldn’t have. But you deserve this. You deserve some normality Alora ,” her words bleed into my lifeless bones, giving them strength again. I used to hate it when she said my name. But now it makes me swoon. It sounds so gentle from her mouth. She won’t admit it but she cares deeply, and this side of her is building my broken bridge. She pulls the tea towel from her shoulder quickly as she spins on her axis towards the fridge.“Which also means! We are going to break that alcohol virginity today.” How did she know I have never drunk alcohol?

“Mm, mm. Nope, absolutely not.” My Mother would turn in her grave.

“Come on! One drink won’t hurt.” She pulls one of her beers out, walking over to me and my chest locks with this pressure building between my thighs. That feeling again. That dull ache that subconsciously screams to be touched.

“I was always told it was dangerous.” Alcohol was a no go for multiple reasons.

“I never said it wasn’t. But you also want to live? Do you not?” Live ? What has living got to do with consuming alcohol?

“And how exactly do they correlate?” My face scrunches, waiting for her to give me an answer as she gazes over my figure silently for a couple of seconds.

“ Freedom . Living is all about escaping shackles.” She confuses me. She said freedom was not possible.

“I thought you didn’t believe in freedom?” She undoes the cap of the bottle with her teeth making mine itch before placing it in front of me.

“I don’t. But this is what your clouds up here are for Little Dreamer. ” Her index finger taps my head gently, trailing the tip down against my cheek, trying to read my thoughts as I stare at the bottle, enticing me with her touch to trust her. Is she trying to tell me that freedom lives inside of me?

“How do I know you haven't drugged it?” Realistically, I know she hasn't. She just opened it in front of me, but I still love to explore this bratty nature I seem to have acquired.

“You don't.” My eyes pulse. Hot waves surging through my insides. Why would she even say that? She still loves to instil this fear in me even though I know she won't hurt me anymore.

“You're not funny.” I grab the bottle, fiddling with it against my fingers, gathering the condensation as it wets the tips.

“As you keep saying.” Her arms cross, waiting for me to drink it and as if I didn't already feel intimidated enough.

I sip it, squinting as the bitter taste hits the back of my throat, swallowing its coarseness. It's definitely, different. But if it does help me chase some freedom then why not? She is staring at me with achievement and it's making me want to drink more. What even is that? Validation? Praise?

“Why sunflowers? They don’t exactly scream Valentines Day?” I ask curiously, staring at the beautiful shade of yellow, almost amber?

“They match your eyes.” Before I even have a chance to respond she stands up and makes her way back to the kitchen where she carries on with her cooking, leaving me with bottle in hand as one swig turns to five, that turns to ten, that turns to an empty bottle and I'm definitely feeling something. The smell of spaghetti Bolognese has never been more orgasmic as I sit here drooling, getting the munchies. I wait patiently for my dinner as I watch her and Shep be nothing but themselves, giving him all the love and tossing food into his mouth.

After what feels like four hours when it's probably been about fifty minutes, she begins to plate up and my tummy growls in the desolate silence of the kitchen. How embarrassing . This is probably the first proper meal besides take out and snacks I've had and I'm ready to devour this food if I can help it. She finally walks over, plates in hand as she presents it to me and either I'm already drunk, or that looks fucking fantastic. Who knew she had that in her.

She notices my empty bottle, replacing it with a new one before sitting down to eat with me and this feels so weird but this anxiety and doubt, all these negative emotions are suddenly gone? I feel strangely content right now. Maybe a little too content. I've seen Kacey drunk and it's slightly terrifying. If she could see me now. Minus the serial killer who ruined my life. She would be so proud. This isn't exactly your typical ‘date’ but it's strongly comfortable.

She admires me from across the table. Like she's looking straight through me as a tiny grin pulls the corner of her mouth, sitting in momentary silence and my eyes shift, trying to figure out what on earth she's looking at before she raises her beer, slumped in her chair.

“Happy ‘ Doomsday’ Alora.” My throat jams, nearly choking on air as I glare at her with detective eyes.

“How did you- I never told-” the realisation smacks me in the face and I want to crawl up into a ball. I was hoping she would leave my birthday out of this and the only way she could have possibly known that was if she took my calendar.

“You read my calendar… Nothings safe with you, is it?”

I chug another few swigs, now accustomed to the sensation, sinking in my self-loathing. Another year older and I'm on a date with a murderer. Not quite how I pictured my first date.

“Are you dead yet?” She has yet to touch her food, still heavily fixated on me. Like she's eating me from the inside out with her eyes. And honestly, she already has. She's buried holes inside of me and chewed away at all my defences that were protecting myself from the caged beast. She's now inside of me, making her mark against my walls.

“No…” My teeth graze my bottom lip as I drag it, pushing against my swollen mouth from biting it sore. I could be dead. But I'm not. Part of me still wants to be but she's making life more tolerable. The person who ruined it is making life look fun. I'm learning slowly to let my hair down, consequences be damned. She's trying to teach me that there is no living without danger, and the more I'm around her, the more that is starting to make sense.

“Then I'd say you're pretty safe, wouldn't you?” My thighs clench together tightly beneath the table trying to remember why I should hate every part of her but it's proving to be very difficult when all I can think about right now is how safe I truly am with her. I'm safer here with her than I ever was at home.

“How long have you known?” I begin to shovel food into my mouth, carefree of her judgement. She can't make a meal this banging and expect me not to inhale it. Plus, I dribble in my sleep. It can't get much worse than that.

“Since we met.” My chewing stops. Remembering the hypo pen. She must have gone back home. But why? “Close your eyes.” She swiftly interrupts me like she knows I’m about to ask her more questions as I finish my mouthful, placing my cutlery down on the table.

“Haydennnnnn, enough surprises.” I literally hate surprises.

“You’ll like this one. I promise.” I roll my eyes reluctant to shut them but after trying to protest I close them, listening to her shuffle about in the garage from the door behind me.

“Open.” She instructs, but I'm nervous, squinting like someone's about to hit me before my eyes nearly fall out of my head at the sight.

“OH MY GOD! IS THAT MY BASS GUITAR?!” She definitely went home and now I am even more curious as to why she would have gone to that length for me when she’d only known me for not even 48 hours.

“Do you play?”I ask playfully.

“Used to. But I'm more of a traditional player myself.” She plays guitar too?! What can't she do?!

“You play acoustic?” I contain my excitement, remaining calm on the outside but inside I want to scream.

“You sound surprised.” She takes another mouthful, and her blunt answers on their own are enough to make any woman fold. I'm convinced.

“You're just- full of surprises. It's nice. This. Learning more about you…” I gaze at her softly and I don’t know if that was me or the alcohol talking.

“You said you wanted to know more about me.”