Bad Girl. - E Z (reading well .TXT) 📗

her, so their faces were inches apart.

Blinking, Libia found herself breathing in his scent. She felt a familiar tickle in her nose. "What?"

Chuckling, Damon grinned slightly. "Can I..."

"Yes?" She hedged, almost too eagerly, as he trailed off.

"I'd really like to-"

Suddenly, Libia felt the tickle in her nose get stronger, she pulled back, covering her face with her hands just in time to let out one hell of a sneeze.

As soon as it happened, Damon seemed to realize where they were. He then realized how cold it was, and that Libia was only wearing that sexy blouse and shorts.

Quickly, he pulled her close to him, easily standing with her wrapped in his arms. "Let's get out of here. I'll call a cab and have the bike picked up later." He told her.

"What about the theater?" She asked him.

"Don't worry. The police come through every week to have it closed up again. We'll wait around the corner," He assured.

Holding her tightly to his chest, he scooped her up in his arms, jogging down to the end of the street, he turned left, finding a suitable bench with a little roof over the top - an old bus stop.

He carefully set her on the dry bench, sitting beside her. As soon as he was comfortable, Libia curled into him. "Wait to call a cab, Damon," Libia sighed, settling her head on his shoulder, and staring out at the sheeting rain. "This is nice."

"You're cold," He said to her, his eyebrows furrowing.

Libia shook her head. "I'm okay...now," She told him, cuddling deeper into his side for emphasis.

He stared at her for a moment, deliberating, before he sighed. "Alright. But if you start shivering I'm calling a cab and taking you home."

Libia shook her head, as if arguing with him. She didn't want to go home. She was sure her father had heard of what had happened. He'd be home in hours. Libia didn't want to remember what happened to her. She wanted to forget. In order to do that...she needed Damon.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she turned her head so it was buried in his side. She breathed in his scent, setting her mind free of all thoughts but of the man beside her.

Damon could only watch the action, his breath leaving him, and his heart racing. Her warm breath seeped through his wet shirt, the simple action warming his entire body to the core. Her long black lashes were wet against her cheek, and her hair was in wet tresses down her back. She was the definition of lovely.

He found himself lifting his hand and stroking her dark hair, running his fingers through the slightly tangled mess. His eyes followed the movement of his hand, as if it were not his doing. Finally, he knew the answer as to why he couldn't get her off of his mind.

She'd held his thoughts in her hands the day that she ran away from him after class. 

And his love.

Chapter Eleven.

 

When Libia arrived home, she looked up at Damon. "Thank you. Even though I got wet, I had fun," Libia shrugged with a slight smile.

Damon smiled back. "I'm glad, Babe," He kissed her cheek. "If you need me, I'm a phone call away," He reminded her.

She nodded, smiling. "I know."

He watched her go, hoping against hope that she didn't get sick. It was now cold out, and she was wearing shorts and soaking wet. He could only hope.

Libia entered her home, letting out a breath of relief when silence greeted her. No one had told her father just yet, and her brother and mother didn't seem to be home.

She let herself relax, and then a sneeze wracked her body.

She cursed through her sniffles, wiping her nose on her sleeve as she walked back to her room, grabbing a towel before walking into the bathroom and taking a hot shower.

***

A week later.

Libia sat waiting for her brother to arrive home, refusing to let her heavy eyes close until his warm presence was in the house. After that night, she hadn't been able to fall asleep peacefully in an empty home. She always had nightmares of someone attacking her in her sleep. Her brother didn't know this, of course. He assumed the first night he'd found her watching TV in the living room that she was worried about him. She didn't offer any explanation, just hugged him and set off to bed without a word.

The Breakfast Club played on low volume, Libia remembering her brother's words to her. 

I'm going to a party, Libs. You don't need to wait up for me tonight.

 She worried about what those words meant. Did that mean he wouldn't be home that night? If so...would she have to endure her never ending nightmares alone? She sniffled, wiping her slightly runny nose with yet another tissue. She'd gotten a minor cold from her night with Damon, but she was getting over it now. 

Her mother took a double shift because the hospital was short on nurses, and she was the only one willing to take it. She needed the money more than the others. So her mother would be working nonstop from eight tonight to twelve tomorrow. She'd be dead on her feet when she finally came back home.

Libia bit her lip as she looked at the clock below the TV. It was already one in the morning, and Ben wasn't home yet. Libia couldn't stay awake much longer. 

Sighing, she blinked back the tears stinging her eyes and stood up, making her way into the kitchen. She glanced out the front window for headlights, or even the silhouette of her brother coming up the sidewalk. There was none. Rubbing her arms with her lip between her teeth, Libia opened the fridge and grabbed a water. She settled down in a stool, and was about to twist the cap off, when there came a knock.

Libia's eyes brightened, and she jumped up from the stool, her water forgotten. She eagerly ran to the door, but when she unlocked it and threw it open, it was not who she thought it was going to be.

Damon stood, a little wobbly, as he looked in at Libia. Libia tilted her head, frowning. Her eyes moved over the bruises he had all over his face. "Damon, your face!"

There was ten seconds of silence. Damon stared into her caring, but confused eyes, and his strength crumbled. He staggered forward, and she caught him in her arms as he wrapped his own weakly around her. He was shaking as she lowered him to the ground, and the heartbreaking gasp that left his lips struck Libia as she realized he was crying.

Libia was so alarmed that she couldn't speak for a second. "Damon," She whispered, lost, "What happened...why are you bruised?"

She smelled the faint smell of alcahol on his clothes, and the way he held her told her that this was a man whom needed nothing but comfort.

"I am ashamed of you, you son of a bitch. How can you be such a dissapointment? Just like your Aunt!" He suddenly sobbed out. "That'sss what they ssaid to me. In front of my brother...in fffront of everry one!"

Libia's eyes were wide as they stared blurrily over his shoulder, rubbing his back. "Who said that, Damon?" She whispered.

"Mom...Dad! I came home...fffrom the tattoo parlor. I wass visiting Cass...they found cigarettes in my backpack...kicked me out," His sentences were slurred and his words caught in his breath.

"Cigarettes?" Libia whispered to herself.

"They kicked me out...called me a worthless low life. My dad...my dad kept hitting me...and hitting me..." 

"Shh, you don't have to talk about it. It's alright. Come on, Damon. Let's get some ice on those bruises, hmm?"

He let her help him up, and she pulled back so she could put a hand on his cheek, gently moving his face back and forth to assess the damage. His eyes refused to meet hers, downcast to the floor. His broken expression broke her heart. "Come on."

She led him into the kitchen, having to support him some as he stumbled, drunk.

She set him on a stool, and he put his head in his arms on the counter.

She prepared the ice pack, the silence filling the kitchen. She pulled the ponytail holder from her hair to wrap around the ends of the rag to hold them together, and her hair fell around her shoulders in the usual, unkempt waves. Damon moved sluggishly, as he lifted his head, setting his chin on his arms to watch her. His eyes blearily studied her raven hair, blinking slowly.

"You can stay for the night. That's why you came, right?" Libia asked as she turned around to look at him.

He blinked again, unsteadily using his arms to push himself back up. His eyebrows furrowed in thought. "I...I don't...," He scratched his head. Why had he come?

He remembered taking his eleventh shot, his friends cheering on some competitive game of pool going on around him while he himself wallowed in his own pain. And then while he was sitting there, he caught a glimpse of a girl with black hair, and his mind went to Libia. He'd made a resolve to see her...but why? The next thing he knew, he was walking from the bar, stumbling in the direction of Libia's home.

Libia gave a concerned frown. "Come to think of it, I didn't see any head lights. Or even hear a motorcycle. How did you get here?" She asked, making her way towards him and having him turn his chair so she could take care of the bruises.

He didn't answer as she got up on the stool in front of him, shifting so she sat on her knees. She was now level with his face, as she pressed the pack to his cheek. He noticed her attire for the first time. Soft-looking shorts paired with a tank top that showed off her perfectly-healing tattoo.

"Damon?" She asked, her voice soft.

Her eyes shifted from the icepack to his, and her breath staggered. His eyes were filled with tender desire. His need for her was muddling his already befuddled mind. Carefully, he took the icepack from her hand, setting it to the side. He reached for her, and she willingly leaned toward him, her eyes caught in his, completely under his spell.

He pulled her off of the stool she was on, and onto his lap, and her legs straddled him. "Babe," He whispered, his voice desperate, before he slid his hand to the back of her neck, and pulled her face to his, smashing his lips to hers.

She returned his enthusiasm with her own. His lips tasted like tequila, but she was too lost in his touch to care. He groped his hand down her side, slipping it under her shirt as his finger tips grazed back up, causing a shiver to wrack through her. 

She pulled away from him, opening her eyes to look up into his. "Why?" Was all she was able to ask.

He cupped her face in both his hands, staring uncertainly into her big, innocent eyes. Could he really tell her what he felt for her? 

Libia found the turmoil in his own eyes confusing, as she reached up to put her hands on each side of his neck. "Damon, what do