Chapter 8

                                    

                                          
After a cold shower, I came to a conclusion that Damien was just some deranged pervert that lured me into his home. The cocky look on his face as he fondled me kept popping up in my head. I can't say I hated it, in fact... I quite liked it. I wasn't going to tell him that, though. Maybe I was also a deranged pervert. 
I put on a bra this time, not wanting to repeat the same mistake. This couldn't happen again because if we crossed that line between caretaker and... whatever that was, there was no going back. The last thing I wanted were for things to be awkward between us. 
It was too late though. The tension between us was palpable. He was passed out by the time I came out of the bathroom, but the following days were filled mostly with silence and uncomfortable pauses. 
I avoided any conversation with him that wasn't directly connected to his recovery or chores. He was back to his old self, typing away on his laptop, and occasionally sneaking glances in my direction. He tried to be subtle, but I noticed. And whenever I did, I would find a corner he couldn't see to occupy myself with various tasks. 
I was becoming used to living here as if it were my own house. I had my own routine, and most of the stress I felt living with Darcey melted away. I never realized it before, but she was a nightmare to live with. I accepted all her flaws because I thought that's just what roommates were like. I would've given my soul to leave my parents' house, and that's what living with Darcey was like. A small smile crept up on my face, thinking about how her boyfriend was perfect for her, and I hoped they would live a miserable life together. 
"Why are you making that sinister expression? You're not planning to kill me, are you?" Damien asked, his eyes filled with concern. This was the first time he had made one of his snarky jokes in several days. 
"Whatever do you mean?" I narrowed my eyebrows and flashed him the most menacing look I could muster. I was in the middle of changing the bandages on his stomach and head. My expression softened when I saw that his wounds were almost completely healed. His head wasn't too badly scraped to begin with, but there was a large scar forming on his abdomen. 
He had propped himself on the bed but sank back in when he heard my question. "Just do it quickly. I deserve it," he proclaimed, defeated. 
It was at that moment that I realized he had been thinking about what happened with us, and he was feeling bad about it. I could tell by living with him that he was prideful, arrogant, and didn't like to apologize. But he looked away, filled with regret. I guess he thought I hated it, considering I ran away as soon as I had the opportunity to. I bent over him to connect my eyes with his, my hair hovering over him like a canopy. He had a sorry look on his eyes.
"If I wanted to kill you, I would've done it already," I stated. 
"Or worse, moved out," he mumbled. 
"What?" 
"Nothing." He had become flustered, not realizing he had said that out loud. 
I brushed my hair back with my hand and tried to suppress the grin creeping up on my face. It was nice to know he would rather die than have me move out. 
"Your stitches have all healed really well. You don't have to worry about those. Now it's just a matter of you being able to walk and use your arm," I explained while putting away some medical supplies.
"You're starting to sound like a real nurse," he said proudly. "You may have a career in this. Nurse Valencia has a nice ring to it."
"Wouldn't it be Nurse Rodriguez?" I didn't like the idea of my familial name to be part of my daily life and frowned at the sound of it. 
"I think it's based on preference. I'm going to call you Nurse Val. We'll get you one of those sexy outfits, too." He looked like an excited puppy thinking of all the possibilities. 
"You're absolutely right. I could use a good pair of scrubs. I don't think it's beneficial of Nurse Val to keep wearing shorts and tank tops all the time in the presence of her patient," I shrugged. 
He seemed upset by that thought, and I couldn't help but laugh. 
"By the way, I have a physical therapy appointment tomorrow," he mentioned casually.
"Already? Why didn't you say anything earlier?" 
"Ah," he scratched his head, "I forgot. They sent me a reminder email today."
A sudden realization hit me. I had a very limited amount of clothes with me that I had worn and reworn. Most of the time, I was in comfortable clothing to lounge around the apartment, but I only brought two pairs of jeans and a couple of shirts with me from my old place. I had to go back to get the rest of my stuff, but the thought of running into Darcey or worse, Shawn, filled me with dread.
"Afterward, can we stop by my old apartment? I need to pick up my things," I requested while fiddling with my fingers. "I can drop you off here first if you want. I don't want to put too much strain on you."
Damien's face lit up at the request. "That sounds great! I'm tired of being stuck in here all the time. Plus, it would be interesting to see how you used to live.
If you can keep this place from looking like a mess, I can only imagine how clean your room is."
I laughed nervously. He was going to be really disappointed seeing the jungle that was my room. Damien's apartment was modern, polished, and easy to keep clean since he was a man of few possessions that weren't essential pieces of furniture. I was definitely a maximalist compared to him with various types of houseplants, succulents, vintage books, and a small mountain of clothes that never saw the inside of my closet.
It was a little exciting thinking of him seeing how I used to live for a change. He had an eager look on his face that made me want to share more of who I was with him. 
"I'm going to start dinner. Any requests?" I walked to the foot of the bed and began pulling my hair back with a hair tie. I looked over at him to see him staring back at me with hungry eyes. Half expecting him to answer with 'you', I began blushing instinctively. "What is it? Did I do something wrong?" 
"You've never put your hair in that style before."
"And?"
"It's really sexy," he said in his low voice. My breath caught in my throat. Why did he always have to say exactly what he was thinking? I touched my ponytail. I always kept my hair in messy waves over my shoulders, but I never thought about him noticing something like this. His eyes glimmered, and I caught myself getting curious about what kind of dirty thoughts were going through his head. 
"Why are you always saying stuff like that to me?" I asked. If he could be blunt, I could be, too. 
"Why are you always enticing me with that body of yours?" He answered my question with a question, a wickedly attractive smile on his face. 
I bit my lip, knowing that if I was within reach for him, he would have me on top of him again, and I would be putty in his hands. He always got the reaction he wanted from teasing me, and he was well aware of that. He scooted over slightly in his bed and lightly patted it to gesture I come sit next to him. I felt drawn in by his emerald, gold eyes, and strong hands. I thought about how he used only one hand to touch me all over, but he knew just what to do to make me shiver. What would he be able to do if he had them both free?
"No! Pervert!" I shouted then stormed into the kitchen, unsure if i was accusing him or myself. I didn't care how hypnotizing he was. I wasn't going to get pulled in this time. "You're getting frozen pizza today," I yelled from the kitchen loud enough for him to hear. I heard some grumbling in response but didn't bother to make out what he said. I sighed and looked down at the large veggie pizza in front of me. 
How long will I be able to resist him?