Chapter 30
30
D amon’s house was situated on a large plot of land just off the bike path. He pulled up to the seashell-covered driveway and parked in front.
Sam had often wondered what kind of place Damon lived in. Her Parisian studio apartment was in the perfect spot to hop around to different countries for traveling. So what kind of a home would Damon pick for himself? She’d imagined something edgy, modern and sharp—the way Damon’s style had always been. But as her flip-flops crunched along the broken shells and they walked toward the wooden porch, she could see that he’d chosen a classic A-frame. The house had to be at least seventy years old and elevated on hurricane-friendly stilts. While the shape was one that had existed in Tybee since her grandma was a kid, the outside was painted a rich and deep midnight blue.
Perhaps more importantly, the trees had been placed far enough away that there were no palms breaking into the house. As they took the steps in awkward silence, she asked, “How long have you lived here?”
Damon unlocked the front door and held it open for her. “Almost five years now,” he said as she walked inside.
She glanced around. There was a dark olive L-shaped couch with striped accent pillows. Behind the couch was a wall covered in framed albums from some of Damon’s favorite bands—My Chemical Romance, Tegan and Sara, Simple Plan, Paramore, Taking Back Sunday, Yellowcard and Good Charlotte. The walls were a warm evergreen, and the floors were a sleek polished concrete. From the outside, she’d assumed a traditional interior, but Damon had modernized the furniture and floors so it perfectly reflected his indie sensibilities.
Sam liked walking into his space and feeling surrounded by evidence of who he was now, but she’d never admit that to him. Not when she had the opportunity to tease him first. “So, when you decided to get a bachelor pad, did you just kind of google things that you should put in your home, or...?” Sam tried to hide her smile.
Damon bit his lip, then said, “I rewatched all of the episodes of MTV Cribs and picked and chose from there.”
She inspected every inch of the place. After all, she knew who Damon had been in high school, but who was he now? Apparently, he was a guy who played enough Ms. Pac-Man to have the arcade game in one corner of his living room. Along with a truly meticulous and well-appointed built-in bar cabinet, which had slots for wine, racks of Band Practice Brews bottles, cocktail shakers, beer steins, martini glasses and top-shelf liquor. Damon rested his palms on the concrete slab of the kitchen island behind him. She tried not to notice his triceps, but they were definitely there.
Sam sat on the couch, far away from his muscles. “All you’re missing is a stuffed deer head.”
“Pretty sure I saw a lava lamp and inflatable chair in your room yesterday,” he said. “Just saying.”
The mention of Damon being in her room sent a rush of blood to her cheeks. She was sure he noticed her blushing wildly and looked down at her hands to try to hide the bloom there. “Not sure it’s fair to compare my teenage design choices with your own adult ones, but if it helps you sleep at night...”
Sam noticed a guitar hanging on another wall. “Remember when we tried to teach ourselves to play guitar the summer before senior year? I really wanted to learn, but you were so bad your dad threatened to ground you if we didn’t stop.”
“I remember.” His eyes roamed the length of her. “That’s the same guitar we tried to learn on.”
“The same...?” Her words caught as she realized he’d kept the guitar from their childhood. Even though he didn’t play, and even though she hadn’t been around to try herself. There the guitar hung in the center of his wall, like a reminder of that time.
Damon broke through her thoughts. “How about we go on the deck? I can’t have you finding more things in the house to make fun of me for.”
“Challenge accepted.” Sam followed Damon out of the back sliding glass doors and onto an expansive deck.
Unlike Pearl’s place, Damon’s was surrounded by lush and overgrown plants. He had a large back lot, but hadn’t done much other than adding a firepit, grill and some rattan chairs.
Damon came to stand next to her. Sam listened to the singing of happy insects as a leftover gentle breeze from the hurricane blew through her hair. Maybe it was the sun’s burning yellow rays shifting to a warm marigold or the fact that she was with Damon—a man who’d known her when she was deeply broken and stayed her friend just the same—but she leaned her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her, and they watched fireflies sparkle between the trees.
Those quiet minutes weren’t something Sam had experienced in a long time; being so comfortable with another person that you could just sit in the silence with them.
Eventually, Damon broke it, though. “Do you want to talk about Bonnie showing up?”
Sam lifted her head from the nook of his arm. “She sure knows how to make an entrance. It’s like she waited for the hurricane to hit just to add some extra drama.”
“You didn’t know she was coming?” He pressed his palms into the railing.
“No one did.” Sam shook her head, still trying to wrap her head around why Bonnie had come back at all. “Pearl had apparently left her a voicemail saying we were cleaning the house out. I guess Bonnie didn’t want to part with her collection of scrunchies.”
“Scrunchies are back in now, to be fair,” he said.
To her surprise, Sam started to laugh. A lot. Too much. She laughed so hard that tears streamed down her face. And then she was crying, actually crying, and Damon wrapped her up in his arms. She accidentally elbowed his ribs when she tried to hug him back, and she was apologizing and he was telling her to stop, but she was sniffling and embarrassed, and he managed to scoop her up and carry her inside.
Damon put Sam on the couch, poured her a glass of water and handed it to her. He sat next to her. She took a big sip and eventually stopped crying and wiped under her eyes with the back of her hand.
“I didn’t get a lot of sleep,” she tried to explain.
He gave her the gentlest look imaginable. “Let’s get you to bed, then.”
Sam nodded. Damon disappeared into a room, and when he came back, he said, “I’ve got a T-shirt and boxers for you in the bathroom, and a toothbrush. Your breath is terrible,” he joked.
She blew a breath into her palm and sniffed. Yeah, he was right. “Mind if I borrow your phone charger, too?”
“Sure thing. I’ll charge the rental fee for the cable to your room.”
Sam cracked a smile. She was starting to feel too comfortable with Damon and she needed clarity, even if it killed the mood. “What are we going to do about us?”
“Let’s talk tomorrow. Your mom randomly showed up at your door. And there’s a rat the size of an overweight dog living in your room. You need sleep. Then in the morning, after you’ve rested, we can talk.” Damon bent down and left a soft kiss on her forehead. “You need a break. Let me take care of you tonight, okay?”
Sam closed her eyes. She was exhausted. Since coming home, she always seemed to be exhausted. Damon was right; she needed sleep. But she also needed him.
“Will you stay with me?” she asked, her voice so low she barely heard it. But Damon did.
“Yeah.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ll be here.”
She brushed her teeth, took a quick shower, slipped into his T-shirt and boxers, then came out, and Damon was there, just as he said he’d be. He pulled back the covers of his bed, and she crawled under the comforter. He lay next to her. She grabbed his hand and wrapped it around her waist so he was spooning her. His chin rested above her head on the pillow. His chest rose and fell behind her, and the rhythm of him made her close her eyes.
Sam woke up alone, but the note on the pillow next to her relayed that breakfast would be waiting. She hadn’t slept so well in weeks and allowed herself a long and indulgent stretch under the covers. Eventually, her stomach made a disgruntled noise, and because hangry Sam wasn’t a pleasant one, she threw off the covers and got up.
She’d expected to look in the bathroom mirror and discover a sea witch, but it was kind of amazing what lots of sleep could do. Her eyes were bright, the puffy bags were nearly gone, her skin had cleared and her hair had a natural beachy wave from how she’d fallen asleep on it while damp. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say she looked well rested. Like her trip to Tybee had accidentally turned into the kind of vacation Rachel wanted for her.
Sam opened the bedroom door and peered out. Damon was at the kitchen stove and, judging by the smell in the room, working on bacon. She’d just woken up in Damon’s house, and now he was making her breakfast. This would almost feel like they were a couple, if she hadn’t had to ask him to cuddle her.
“I don’t suppose you make coffee, too?” Sam ran a hand through her hair.
Damon turned. “My Keurig can.” He pointed to the sleek machine in the corner of the kitchen, took out a pod and popped it in. The machine whirred to life and he grabbed a branded Band Practice Brews mug from the cabinet. “How’d you sleep?”
Sam sidled onto the bar stool at the kitchen counter and propped her elbows up. “How did you sleep? I hope you didn’t mind me using you as a human body pillow,” she joked.
“I didn’t mind.” Damon picked up the coffee cup and put it in front of Sam. His eyes locked on to hers and she couldn’t look away, not even if she tried. Eventually, he grabbed a carton of milk and she poured in a few glugs, then sipped.
Damon brought over two plates loaded with bacon, eggs and toast, then sat on the bar stool next to her. He took a deep breath, then turned to face her. She did the same, and their knees touched, but he didn’t move away so neither did she.
“Should we talk about what happened the other day?” he eventually said.
“We should.” Though Sam had no idea where to start.
“I know we joke around a lot, but that was a big deal,” Damon added.
The that was sex, Sam knew, and the fact that they’d leaped from childhood friends to adults who had sex was a big deal. In that what they’d done hadn’t been meaningless. Not a one-night fling they could occasionally remember and just as easily forget. They weren’t nothing to each other, and now they were closer in a way they’d never been.
“Right,” she acknowledged. Still, Sam knew through her bones that their situation wasn’t clear. If it had been, they wouldn’t be shuffling around the subject like two kids at a middle school dance. “But you live here, and I’m in Paris. And we both have these super busy jobs.”
“Yeah, we do,” Damon quickly said. He waited for her to say more, but she couldn’t say the words I’m afraid this won’t work . Eventually, he said them for her. “So maybe we’ll just kind of treat this as it is, then. You’re here now, and we have time to be together. But when you leave...”
We will be over , Sam finished the thought in her head. All of that made sense, logically. She’d basically made the argument herself. So why did she feel so disappointed?
His free hand tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and she leaned her cheek against his open palm. He bent toward her, and she tilted her chin up. Damon closed his eyes, and she closed hers, and their lips met for a kiss that rolled through like a silky wave. His fingers squeezed hers as he pulled her in close. And then he stood and lifted her off the chair, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
He brought her to his bedroom. All they had was the time she would spend in Tybee, nothing more. They had to make every minute count. And as the too-bright morning light streamed in through the curtains to reveal the painful truth of the present, their bodies crashed and rocked together as smoothly as they had the day before.