WARNING: the following chapter contains some sexual content.

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My mom wasn't kidding when she said that Damian was a connoisseur of classical music. As soon as he turned on the radio, a dramatic rhythm inundated the car, making me feel like I was starring in a play. I stared at him amusedly and raised my eyebrows.

"Wow. I'll pretend this isn't creepy at all."

He was a very careful driver, and after he made sure I had my seatbelt on, his speed gradually increased, but he still kept it within the limits. Certainly more prudent than Devon, who speeded like there was no tomorrow, his tires sometimes screeching because of abrupt stops.

"It's calming. Not as calming as punching people is, but close." he chuckled, keeping his eyes on the road. He had a relaxed stance, holding the steer with his left hand, while the right one rested on the gear shift for a moment. It was enough for me to notice his bruised knuckles, pale red patches on his skin. Other than that, he looked so serene and calm, without a trace of a frown on his forehead. The afternoon light cast on his face made him look young and innocent, the sharpness of his face waning into it.

"Is that what happened to your hand?" I remarked, watching his beautiful features contemplatively.

"No." he responded promptly, almost coldly.

I wondered if I should change the subject as his jaw tightened. But he continued shortly after:

"A wall. I punched a wall." he said. There he was, slipping away from me again, putting on the ironclad mask of blandness that I couldn't get past, concealing his innermost so well I had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. "I'd rather feel physical pain than emotional."

His words were unsettling and baffled me to a great extent, so much that I stopped hearing the classical music in the background. I realised I knew nothing about Damian. I didn't know anything about his family, or his birthday or something as trivial as his hobbies. And I certainly knew nothing of his troubles, what he was going through. Was he happy? Did he have other friends except for Ellie?

"I'd never hurt you. You know that, don't you?" he asked me softly, turning his head to look me in the eye.

"I'd never hurt you either." I uttered in the same gentle tone, gazing at him.

His lips curved upwards into a wavering, wry smile. He riveted his eyes back on the road absently.

"That's the first lie you told me."

I remained silent.

***

It had been a thirty-minute long drive, but time had passed very quickly. I had convinced Damian to put in the Arctic Monkeys and now R U Mine? played in the background. I had every word impregnated into my memory. And apparently, so did he.

"Did your dad ground you because you got suspended?" I asked him seriously, but he responded with a laugh.

"He knows it's to no avail." he said, turning off the engine.

He had parked the car near a rustic house: a lake house, to be exact, that was a family heirloom. I slid my phone into the pocket of my jacket and left my bag in his car.

We got out of the car and for a minute, I just admired the breathtaking, country-like view. The lake was crystal clear, its dark-bluish surface reflecting the bare, tall trees and the clouded sky, its water glistening in the sun. The wind was more chilling here, but I didn't mind. I walked closer to it, gazing down at the water. Just looking at it made me feel peaceful, separated from the real world -- in a good way. Because the real world was not where I wanted to be at that moment. The sunlight upon my head bathed me in little blooms of warmth. I turned to Damian, who stood by my side without saying a word, like a protective, dark shadow.

"It is very beautiful. It's like we're in another dimension."

"It's my safe haven. My family doesn't really come here anymore, not since my mom left. But I do. I enjoy being alone with my thoughts."

Not since mom left. He had never mentioned his mother before. I scrutinised his face: his dark eyes, framed by long lashes, his straight small nose, full lips and defined cheekbones. For some reason, I was certain he looked like his mother. He studied me in return with a weak smile; his look trailed from my long, wavy hair to my brown eyes, my nose and finally, my lips.

"Why did your mom leave?" I asked, clasping my hands together in an attempt to warm them up.

He stared into the horizon and began to speak in the same apathetic way, but he didn't fool me this time. This meant much more to him than he let on.

"She fell in love with someone else. She cheated on my dad with another man when I was seven and my parents divorced. She married that man and now has another family, other children. I have never met her new family, and nor do I want to."

I chewed on my lower lip, bewildered. I had never expected that. It was a false misconception of mine; my parents still loved each other very much and were happy together, so I assumed that every other family was the same. But it wasn't like that. Even the purest of marriages could fall apart. Sometimes, love wasn't enough to maintain a healthy relationship. Or was it love in the first place that lacked?

"I'm sorry to hear that. Does she visit you often?"

"There's nothing to be sorry about. I learnt to live without her the same way you learn to live without an arm. You know that it is missing every day, but there's nothing you can do about it but resign yourself." his eyes scanned me for a second, devoid of emotion, before averting back to the lake. "She visits twice a year. On our birthdays, mostly. But she's become a stranger."

Sadness filled me, and I had the urge to hug him for the second time that day. I noticed his hand had curled into a fist, and my own reached to hold it, but I realised what I was doing and quickly dropped it by my side. He was too deep in thought to notice.

"Dad's sister, my aunt, became the closest thing I had to a mother. She now has a daughter of her own. We babysit her from time to time."

"Do you miss her?"

"I used to. When I was still a child. I still do, I think. Sometimes. But I have someone else to miss now." he turned his head towards me, his lips curving heavenwards into a cryptical smile.

"And who is that?" I asked innocuously, returning his smile. I instantly realised that I hoped he'd say it was me. I needed to shatter that hope. Ellie was in love with him. Maybe he's talking about Ellie.

"Let's go inside. You're freezing." he remarked with a teasing tone.

"What--you don't know that." I protested with a grin.

"I do. You always clasp your hands in front of you when you're cold." he asserted patronizingly.

I rolled my eyes at him. How could he know so much about me and I, so little about him?

***

It wasn't really warmer inside the house than outside, but at least there was no chilly wind. I placed my jacket and he his coat on the chairs by the table. The house only had one floor. As you entered, there was a large table that extended across the right wall, a cupboard in the corner, a soft brown couch by the left wall and in the centre of the room, a fireplace. There was also a door that led to the bathroom and another one that led to a small bedroom, with a king-sized bed. The warm, neutral colours gave the house a welcoming, cosy look. As I sat comfortably on the couch, Damian went to the bedroom and came back with a fluffy dark blue blanket. He placed it softly over my lower body and sat next to me. The more time I spent with Damian, the sweeter he became. Or maybe he was just warming up to me. The way you warm up to a friend.

"I can make the fire if you want." he proposed.

"No, it's all right. I'm not cold anymore." I assured him. "We can share the blanket, if you'd like." I suggested.

He nodded. I took off my boots and lounged on the couch in a sidesaddle position, bending my knees to one side. Wearing jeans had been a good decision. I didn't have to worry about my skirt being too short or anything else.

Damian took the other end of the blanket and pulled it over his lap. I leant back on the arm of the sofa, propping my head on it. Tranquillity seeped into my body as we just lolled for a while, maintaining eye contact.

"Thank you for standing up for me today." he started. He had thanked me first. Wow.

"That's what friends do." I automatically voiced without giving it a second thought. Friends. I wanted to punch myself. Why on earth did I say that? I didn't want him to think of me as his friend. I didn't want him to think of me as a simple acquaintance either. I bit my lower lip in frustration. On the contrary, I should want him to think of me as a friend. I must. For Ellie.

His eyebrows quirked at the sound of that word, but he continued to eye me languorously, as if he was enjoying the sight of me.

"You did the same thing for me. Thank you." I added quickly, hoping he'd let the friends word slip by.

"Friends." he pronounced the lexeme bleakly, staring into my eyes deeply, so deeply that I felt bare. "Do you see me as a friend?"

No. Not that question. Why did he have to ask me that question?

"Do you see Ellie as a friend?" I answered instead, feeling my heartbeat race.

"I see Gabrielle as a sister." he replied, almost causing me to sigh in relief.

I felt guilty for feeling relieved. I couldn't be selfish. My best friend was in love with this boy. I couldn't do this to her. And yet his hypnotic gaze allured me, his mere touch left me breathless. Was I falling in love as well? I didn't want to. It scared me.

I took a deep breath, controlling my emotions. No, I wasn't falling in love with Damian. I was attracted to him, that was all. We had chemistry and I felt drawn to him like a fly to a carnivorous plant. But this wasn't love. Being in his presence felt like being in a tornado. But when I was with Devon, it felt natural, nice, placid. I like Devon more, I said to myself, without actually believing it.

"Do you see me as a sister?" I asked flippantly, a puerile smile plastered on my face. Maybe he'd answer yes and I could start thinking of him in the same way.

The mischievous smirk that formed on his lips perturbed me. With one move he tossed the blanket off us and grabbed my ankles, pulling me towards him slightly so my head rested on the seat cushion, not on the arm of the couch. I nearly gasped as he spread my legs just a little apart to position his knees between them, leaning forward. My lips parted, but I was at a loss for words. He supported himself on his elbows, our lower bodies almost touching, gazing at me. His body on top of mine provided more warmth than the blanket ever could, and I felt pleasant shivers run down my spine. My mind went blank and every other thought shut off; all I could think about was him, his hot, soft breath on my face, his lips inches away from mine.

"That depends." he uttered in a low, husky tone. "Are you into incest?"

I took in the smell of his perfume. How could such a queer question turn you on? I had no idea, but since it was coming from his mouth, it did. His eyes riveted to my lips. Oh God. He was probably going to kiss me. What-do-I-do-what-do-I-do-what-do-I-do...

His lips touched mine ever so slightly, but I could feel my heart exploding already. I craved his kiss. I craved it. His lips collided with mine, kissing me slowly, excruciatingly slowly, as if he was savouring every bit of it. His mouth was warm, and his lips just as soft as I remembered them when he had kissed me in the cafeteria. He pulled back just an inch and his teeth nibbled at my lower lip, teasing me, offering me a chance to push him off me. But I didn't. I didn't pull back, I didn't turn away, I just lay there, unable to move a single muscle in my body.

I was so going to hell for this, wasn't I?

I found myself unable to resist, despite the muted call of my voice of reason, yelling in the back of my head. My arms wrapped around his neck and I pulled him closer to me, kissing him back. Perhaps this was all he needed, a silent confirmation that I wanted this as well. This time, the kiss wasn't slow or gentle. Its intensity grew by the second; it was demanding, hungry, with a passion I had never felt before, awakening thrilling sensations into my body that I had never thought existed. He parted my lips further apart with his own and one of his hand trailed from my chin to my waist, almost making me whimper. I had no idea what I was doing, but it seemed I did it right, for he clung to me like I was his salvation, his drug, his addiction. He deepened the kiss even more, until I felt his tongue in my mouth, and a pleasurable giddiness took over me. He pressed his body on mine, and I was certain I felt his beating heart against mine, racing at light speed.

I'm in love with Damian, Ellie had said. I'm in love with Damian.

What have I done? It was almost as if I had woken up from a trance. I jerked my head to the side, desperately trying to catch my breath to mutter:

"This isn't...-- right. We can't..."

I could feel my cheeks reddening under his perplexed gaze, his own breath unsteady and precipitated. I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eye, my lips burning from our ardent kiss. I breathed in his scent, closed my eyes for a short moment as I said with a shaky voice:

"We can't do this."

"Rosabel...--" he started softly, almost desperately, his palm cupping my face and turning it towards his.

I shook my head firmly and placed my hands on his chest, pushing him off me. He withdrew immediately, his hands searching mine frantically, as he got off the couch and knelt in front of me. He covered my warm hands with his, equally warm, and squeezed them weakly.

"Did I hurt you? Are you okay? I'm sorry. I must have gotten carried away. Rosabel, please. Look at me. I'm sorry."

I looked into his bottomless hues, touched by his concerned tone and affectionate, apologetic gaze. He really likes you. He really, really likes you. I could see it now. I could see it perfectly clear: he actually cared about me, about my feelings. He watched me as if I were the light of his world. I wanted to pull him back on me and keep kissing him until our lips went numb, to hug him and never let go, for I felt safe when I was with him, I felt like I was in another universe and we were the only people who inhabited it. Our safe haven. If only I could tell him the reason I pulled away, the fact that he had done nothing wrong, that he hadn't hurt me at all.

But my best friend...

"This was a terrible mistake that won't happen again. I'm sorry, we can't be more than friends. I have feelings for someone else. We can't be anything."

His features hardened instantly and he let go of my hands, looking desolate and crestfallen. I think I broke his heart.

I think I broke mine too.

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Author's Note: Hello, my dears! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, for I certainly enjoyed writing it, if you know what I mean ;)

Every vote, every view means the world to me, so thank you! Lots of love and happiness, take care of yourselves xxx