Just As Much Read online

  “Well, you got me to agree to dinner, Damian. Now what?” I say as we look at the menu. My eyes literally go wide at the prices.

  “Now, you choose what you want to eat and stop gapping at the menu,” he says with a coy smile as he takes a sip of water.

  “Do you take all your dates to really expensive restaurants?” I ask.

  “I usually don’t date,” he says matter-of-factly. I guess he doesn’t—or he doesn’t need to.

  “I’ve heard,” I mumble. The waiter comes over and takes our order, out of habit I just order the cheapest thing I can find. Typically, when I went out with my sister I always tried to make sure that I never put them out.

  “You sure you only want the soup and salad?” he says.

  I shake my head.

  “So, what have you heard?” he asks, referring to my comment.

  “Hmmm?” I say looking innocent.

  “Felicity, you don’t make comments about rumors without backing them up. Come on now. I’ve got nothing to hide,” he says.

  “I’ve heard that you’re quite the player,” I say. He smiles at that one.

  “I don’t call it playing when the women I have slept with knew that it was just sex for me. But, I guess some people would call me that,” my mouth opens at his honesty.

  “So, what is this Damian?”

  “It’s a date, Felicity. A date I’ve earned if I remember correctly?” he says.

  “But why go on a date, if you don’t date?” I ask him.

  “Because I like you. And I wanted to get to know you,” he says, and I start to see the less practiced version of him—the man behind the actor. But I still don’t buy in, I haven’t given him any reason to like me.

  “You don’t like me, Damian. I am a game to you. I said no and now you want to make it a goal for me to say yes,” I say coolly.

  “Of course I like you,” he says.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I sigh.

  “Now I get it,” he says taking a sip of water.

  “Get what?” I ask him.

  “You don’t think highly of anyone, Felicity, because you don’t think highly about yourself,” he says. His eyes stare right into mine and I am forced to look away. I start feeling something—lust? Or maybe it is a deeper respect for him. I don’t know but I definitely do not like it.

  The food comes and we sit there and enjoy the meal. The soup and salad weren’t much, but I actually find myself enjoying the conversation. Damian, despite the weird act he likes to put on, gets my humor and is surprisingly easy to talk to.

  “Favorite band?”

  “Halestorm.”

  “Halestorm?”

  “Look up Lzzy Hale, she is amazing.”

  “I’ll do that,” he says smiling.

  “What kind of music do you listen to?” I ask him.

  “A little bit of everything, really,” he says, and I shake my head.

  “No. That’s a cop out,” I say laughing.

  “You strike me as the type of girl who judges others based on their music selections,” he says taking a drink of water.

  “And you strike me as the type of guy who morphs to fit the woman,” I say with a laugh.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re good a reading people. I am guessing that sometimes you tell people what they want to hear instead of the truth,” I say honestly. “So, answer my question.”

  “My brother is a DJ, I used to follow him around on all of his gigs and stuff growing up. When we worked the gigs, we really had no choice what music we would listen to. If the soccer moms wanted the best of the eighties, we played the best of the eighties, if the preteens wanted Justin Bieber, we listened to Justin Bieber. When I tell you I like a bit of everything, I mean it. I tend to find at least one song that I like at a gig.”

  I lean in closer to him and he follows suit.

  “Is that your way of telling me that you like Justin Bieber?” I whisper and he cracks up laughing so loudly that our fellow patrons give us some glares.

  “Is it too late now to say I’m sorry?” he says stifling a grin.

  “What do you mean?” I say laughing.

  “Ha! A fellow Bieber lover!” he says.

  “I believe they are called, Beliebers,” I retort.

  “You’re corny!” he accuses, and I just sip my drink.

  “And you’re flirting,” I say and he just smirks.

  “So that’s what it looks like,” he says staring at me.

  “What?” I say.

  “You actually enjoying your time with me,” he says taking his last bite.

  “Shut it,” I say checking on Zeke.

  “Are you allergic to anything? Besides emotions?” he asks with a grin as we finish our meal.

  “Nope. Just feelings,” I say taking a sip of water.

  He orders us both dessert, not really giving me a choice, but I don’t mind. I am hungry after that miniscule soup and salad and he probably knows it.

  “Did you do the whole buy salad because you’re a girl and this is a date thing? Because that was basically chicken water and two giant pieces of lettuce,” he says looking at me as they bring us two giant pieces of chocolate cake. I could smart off easily with this one, but he is giving me genuine eyes and I don’t want them to go away.

  “When I was growing up, I learned it is best not to be a burden to the person paying for you,” I say sincerely, and he actually looks shocked that I didn’t joke with him.

  “You could have gotten what you wanted, Felicity.”

  “I wouldn’t have known where to begin,” I say looking around me. Outside of the bubble he created for me, I feel pretty out of place.

  “I went a little overboard huh?” he says taking his first bite. I reach down and start eating mine after he starts his. A habit I learned at home.

  I hold up my fingers and pinch them together, “Just a tad.”

  However, as I talk chocolate deliciousness enters my taste buds and I’m thinking I would come here just for this cake.

  “This is orgasmic,” I say without thinking and Damian laughs almost as loud as the Bieber quip.

  “You don’t say?” he says, he stares at me, obviously enjoying my happiness over a simple piece of cake.

  While we are eating, I stop to look at him and really think about how I want this to go. Damian is hot. Damian, for some unknown reason, took me to an expensive restaurant, and he probably could show me a good time. But is that what I want to be? Another warm body? I have a sinking feeling that the chase is what has gotten me this far—and I like talking to him—I might actually like him. He gets me in a way that very few people do, and he calls me out on my shit. If I give in, the chase is up and Damian will move on to the next girl in line and stop talking to me for good, and the thought of that makes me feel hollower than I am willing to admit.

  “What are you thinking?” he asks as I contemplate our future—and his abs.

  “I’m wondering where you think this is going,” I say.

  “What?” he asks. He eyes my empty dessert plate and pushes his over and I start eating his too. I don’t care, this is amazing cake.

  “Damian, you are a self-proclaimed player. Do I really need to elaborate?” I say, changing the mood, as I wipe a small bit of icing off my face. This place is making me self-conscience, I am using my napkin every five minutes.

  “This goes anyway you want it to go, Felicity. I love talking to you. Do you hate me that much?” he says rolling his eyes.

  “No. I don’t. And that is my problem.”

  “You want to hate me?” he asks appalled but with humor in his tone.

  “That would be easier, yes,” I say with a grin, taking another bit of cake.

  “Wow, I don’t even know what to say to that one. Do you want to do this again? Or come home with me? Or what?”

  “That’s such a romantic offer, I mean…” I say sarcastically.

  “Do you want another date, Felicity?”

  �
��You don’t date,” I state.

  “Not really,” he says.

  “Then why offer to date me?”

  “I like talking to you.”

  “And how long will that last until you want in my pants?” I say softly.

  “Honestly, I want in your pants now. I am just saying that I want to get to know you better. Talk to you, if you’re not the type to sleep around,” he says. No. This feels like a game. Be smart, Felicity.

  “Plenty of people talk without dating, Damian,” I say, “I have a feeling that you may get bored only having one conversation.”

  “Touché,” he smiles.

  “Damian, you don’t need a girlfriend, you need a girl friend. Someone who won’t care whose pants you’re in. And I need a friend, someone like you who I can talk to. So, I’ll give you two options,” I say.

  “And those are?” he says.

  “I’m attracted to you. You can say the word right now and I will go back to your room with you and then the two of us can wake up tomorrow and forget each other and forget this ever happened. Or...”

  “Or?”

  “Or, you give up trying to sleep with me and agree to just be close friends. Then you can talk to me all you want if you love it so much. And talk to whomever else you choose.”

  “You’re friend zoning me?” he asks appalled.

  “Technically, Damian, you would be friend zoning yourself. There are two options on the table,” I say looking at him.

  “So, let me get this straight. I can either have a one-night stand with you and leave it at that or I can be your best friend?”

  “I said nothing about best. I said friend.”

  “The word close was definitely in your sentence.”

  “Damian.”

  “How close of friends? Benefits?” he says winking.

  “Damian.”

  “I want to know you, Felicity.”

  “Know me or know me?” I ask sarcastically licking my fork. I realize it looks like I am teasing him, and I don’t care.

  “I don’t want a one-night stand,” he sighs, he is struggling with this.

  “Then it looks like you are choosing the friendzone.”

  “Can you tell me why dating me is so out of the question?”

  “Simple, Damian. You don’t date and neither do I.”

  Friend Zone

  “Did you get to cognitive dissonance?” I ask Meredith as we work on our psych homework.

  “Adjusting our behaviors or thoughts when they don’t align, and it is brought to our attention. For example, if you hate fuckboys, but you out of the blue decide to become best friends forever with one, you need to either change your opinion of fuckboys or dump his ass,” Meredith says from my desk refusing to look at me.

  She has made it abundantly clear that she is not for the friend pact with Damian.

  When I came back from our date a few weeks ago she wanted details. I, of course, told her everything and she went berserk on me.

  “Fee, you realize you are just setting yourself up to be hurt, right? Men like Damian don’t exactly do the friend thing,” she said.

  “I guess he will have to learn,” I said shrugging.

  “He is going to hard press at you until you give in or stop once he gets bored and that’s only going to hurt you. You like him,” she said placing a hand on my shoulder.

  “Believe me, Mere, I can handle myself with this one.”

  “Why would you want to be his friend anyway? He’s a total man whore.”

  “Because, I don’t know. There is something there. Something more.”

  “Honey, you are just buying what he’s been selling to every vagina in a walking distance. Don’t do this.”

  “Too late,” I said.

  Since then, Damian and I typically hang out every weekday. We leave the weekends to him and his festivities.

  “Cute, Mere. How about the next one?” I ask her, rolling my eyes.

  “Mere expose effect? Funny you should ask, that is the idea that the more we see something, the more we like it. For example, the more you hang out with the fuckboy, the harder it is going to be for you to leave him.”

  “Meredith!” I groan and she laughs.

  “Don’t you love psychology!” she says turning towards me.

  Just as I am about to start this argument for a second time, there is a knock on my door. I stick my tongue outbat her and open the door to Damian.

  “I have Top Gun and popcorn,” Damian says with a grin walking into my room.

  “That’s my cue to head out,” Meredith says giving me a look. “Mere exposure...” she lips to me as she heads out.

  “Goodbye, Mere,” I say smiling and Damian is already plopped on my couch.

  “I can’t believe you haven’t seen this movie,” Damian says grabbing my laptop and making himself at home by putting Top Gun in the drive.

  “We are watching it on John?” I say laughing. It is going to take forever for it to load. Yesterday I didn’t understand a Maverick and Goose reference, and apparently, I offended all of humankind by not seeing this movie.

  “Jerry doesn’t have a CD-ROM, he’s too cool,” he says referring to his laptop. He named his after our project. I laugh and go and sit beside him. He hands me a bag of popcorn and I throw a piece in the air and catch it.

  “Nice,” he says waiting for my computer to wake up. He is going to get impatient soon.

  “I love popcorn, I haven’t had it in forever,” I say diving into it.

  “You are such a foodie,” he says laughing. “Don’t you get popcorn at the movies?”

  “One, I don’t go to the movies that much because I’m fairly broke, and two, when I do go to the movies I don’t purchase snacks there. That is what huge purses are for,” I retort.

  He is impatiently tapping his fingers and staring at the screen. So, I laugh at him.

  “What?”

  “You have no patience.”

  “It is so slow!” he says exasperated.

  “He doesn’t play movies very often, give John a chance to get his bearings,” I say smiling.

  “So, if you don’t get your popcorn at the movies, where do you usually get it?” he asks me. “Tell me you don’t always get the lame bag kind.”

  “My mom took me to this carnival once and we spent the day riding rides and playing all the stupid games. We stayed there until way past my bedtime and I got the BEST popcorn and cotton candy of my life,” I say really thinking about it before I answered. I miss Mom, so much.

  “Wow,” he says.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You talked about your parents, you don’t normally do that,” he says shrugging.

  “It’s one of my favorite memories, actually. I was probably around seven?” I say looking down. She was sick then, I remember her getting thin all of a sudden and puking all the time. It was the chemo.

  “My favorite memory is of my Dad and I going to DC together. I was obsessed with the presidents growing up. I would recite them in order.”

  “Really now? Let’s hear them,” I say half-sarcastically.

  “Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Adams, Jackson, Van Buren, Harrison, Tyler, Polk, Taylor, Fillmore, Pierce, Buchanan, Lincoln, Johnson, Grant, Hayes, Garfield, Arthur, Cleveland…” he spits out faster than I can count.

  “Okay, okay! I believe you,” I say laughing.

  “Oh, I can keep going,” he says looking at me seriously. His eyes are genuine, he seems so light-hearted when it is just the two of us, but as soon as he walks out of here he starts acting like he’s God’s gift to woman. I just don’t get it.

  “You’re a nerd,” I say laughing. “You never talk about your Dad, either.”

  “He died when I was sixteen,” Damian says looking down.

  “That’s rough,” I say sympathetically.

  “We saw it coming, cancer,” he says but before I can respond the movie pops up. Another thing we have in common, but I don’t share that detail.r />
  “FINALLY,” Damian says. I grab one of my larger blankets and Damian sits my laptop on my ottoman in front of us as the movie starts.

  We sit on the couch and watch it, but after a while I am so tired and so uncomfortable from sitting straight up on the futon.

  “Get up,” I tell him, and he does, pausing the movie. I push the ends of the futon up so that it folds out into a bed. Thank God, Mel had this thing. Damian sees what I am doing and helps me spin the futon so that the head is facing the computer.

  “You know it is no fair that you get this amazing single, you know that right?” he says and I roll my eyes at him. He is constantly hedging to try and figure out why I am in a single and why I have Zeke—which means I am totally going to drawl out telling him.

  I lay down and he presses play while I pull the blanket over us.

  I don’t remember the end of Top Gun. I wake up to my alarm going off on the other side of the room. I grunt into my pillow. Then I realize—I didn’t bring pillows from off my bed. I open my eyes and my head is on Damian’s chest. Instantly, I start feeling a warmth build in my chest and swallow hard. No. No. No. Just don’t make a big deal about it and get up, Felicity.

  I don’t do sleepovers. For one, it is mega awkward if you have a seizure in the morning, and I also just don’t do intimacy too well. I don’t like being held—blame my upbringing, whatever, I just don’t like it. But this feels way too good…stop.

  “Damian, we fell asleep,” I say groggily as I get up and hit the alarm. I look over at Zeke, who is waiting by the door to be let out. He has his routine down.

  “You moved,” he says all pouty.

  “The alarm was going off and I have class,” I say looking at him.

  “I don’t,” he says pulling all the covers on himself.

  “Have you ever stayed with a girl and not had sex?” I say and he shakes his head.

  “Huh, something you’re a virgin in,” I say softly.

  “Ha. Ha,” he says sarcastically. I grab my shoes.

  “I’ve got to take Zeke out,” I say. I feel bad already that he didn’t get to go out one last time before we fell asleep. I let Zeke do his business and come back in and feed him. Damian is still on my futon halfway asleep.