Beautifully Damaged Read online

  My life certainly was not a Taylor Swift fairy tale love song, my life was far — extremely far — from a fairy tale. It was more like my own personal hell, and I was the only one who lived there. It still scared me, the feelings that surfaced from just looking at Damon. I didn't think anyone noticed the way we stared at each other. It was always dark near the back anyway, and that was where I usually stole my glances, in the shadows. Childish, but I didn't care. I had never felt like that about any other person. I knew I wouldn't act on anything, but he was the only one that ever made me feel or want things I didn't deserve. With just one look from him, he took my mind places it had no business going. I knew I had to keep my distance from him. He reeked of trouble. I wasn't stupid enough to think a few fun nights with him would be worth the risk of him hurting me in the long run. I haven't had much experience with guys, but I was smart enough not to go down that road.

  Especially with someone like him. Damon had dynamite written all over him, and I'd be damned if it blew up in my face. I had enough troubles of my own. I wasn't even sure real love existed anymore, and if and when I decided I wanted my shot at it, it definitely wouldn't be with a guy like him. I had enough trust issues to begin with.

  Geez, I really need to stop thinking about him. I may have sounded like a selfish bitch, but a person could only take so much pain in her life before the brokenness could no longer be fixed. I truly one-hundred-and-ten percent believed that. How the hell do I even begin to give my heart away when I lost it a long time ago and never really got it back? I didn't want to feel pain again. Any type of pain… ever.

  His voice was so deep, raspy and soulful in that song. Damon had a way with music — his voice — the way he even held onto the mic and guitar. It was intimate.

  For some reason, I started to wonder how many women he had actually slept with. Well, I wouldn't really call it sleeping. As I tried to count the nasty women that I was aware of in the same way I counted sheep at night, I heard someone calling my name.

  It was Xavier, our bartender. He was cute, sweet, genuine, and witty as hell. I knew he liked me because he said so all the time, like constantly. I liked the relationship I had with Xavier the way it was. Easy and simple. I enjoyed our talks at work, but that was all it would ever be. I never opened up to anyone. I didn't want to, and I wasn't sure how to go about it if I ever changed my mind. Friendships and spending time with someone… well, they would eventually ask about my past. I didn't want to talk about that. It made me extremely uncomfortable and I doubt I would ever get past it. Not only would I get their pity, but after they'd learned what I'd done, I was certain they wouldn't feel the same way about me. I would lose whatever it was we had and I didn't want that. Trying to get close with someone felt awkward and I didn't trust people easily. How could someone want to be my friend after what I had done? No matter how much they cared for me, once they learned what had happened, what I was capable of, they would turn their back on me.

  I lived my life by an old quote by some unknown author:

  Everyone sees who I appear to be, but only a few know the real me

  You can only see what I choose to show,

  There's so much behind this smile you don't even know.

  "Ariel I see you're admiring the view. I thought you were the one and only who wasn't affected by the famous, all mighty Damon." Xavier laughed.

  "Please, I'm not affected. He's good. That's all."

  "If you say so, he's checking you out."

  "No, he's not," I said.

  "Okay, I'm a guy and I know he's checking you out. He wants you. Trust me! I catch him looking at you all the time. You're just too naïve to notice."

  "I'm not naïve!" I yelled. I'd noticed all right, but I kept that to myself. I'd seen him looking at me, but it was not the looks he gave others. It wasn't the I wanna melt your panties off look. When he looked at me, his face was almost expressionless, unreadable. It was masked — I couldn't read him and I was great at reading people.

  Xavier leaned down and whispered in my ear. "Right now he's wondering what color your panties are, and by the way, I'm thinking about the same thing, so let's be clear on that and — oh shit, he's looking at me like he's about ten seconds away from kicking my ass just by standing this close to you. Yup, pretty sure the dude wants you." He shook his head. Xavier laughed a little at the same time I smiled and pushed his face away from mine. He was way too close.

  "Whatever, Xav. Stop it." I turned to look, and Damon was staring intensely, as he often did. I wasn't sure what his problem was, but his eyes were narrowed in on us, and his fist was a little tighter on the mic than before. His fingers flexed over the microphone. Yeah, I was ashamed I'd noticed that. Damn forearms. I shrugged my shoulders as if I didn't care. I really cared.

  "He always looks like that," I said.

  Xavier took a deep breath and shook his head again. "Only at you. Be careful."

  Again I couldn't help but stare back. It was like a push-and-pull thing with him that I didn't have much control over. I just didn't want to back down, but at the same time I knew I probably shouldn't have ever given him the satisfaction of knowing he got to me.

  "It's weird, I'll admit, how he is always looking but never talks to you. I figured he would have already tried to get with you by now."

  "He can kiss my ass," I told Xavier, and Damon half-smiled — actually smiled — and it was aimed toward me. Damn, was he a mind reader? No way he could have heard us. Damon broke eye contact to finish the song, and I felt like a champ. Ha, I won that little battle. I refused to back down to anyone. I took that small victory like a boss; even if it was just a stupid staring contest.

  "Maybe he hasn't approached because of the mean ass vibe you put off."

  "Huh?" I questioned.

  "You know, I'm a bad ass don't dare touch me, don't dare talk to me, fear my vibe, hear me RAW-W-W-R you throw out there." Xavier got dramatic the more he spoke. He was laughing his ass off at my expense.

  "Did you just seriously RAWR Katy Perry?" I hit him with my shoulder and walked away. Then I turned back and yelled at him over the music. "You're such a jerk." He stood still while laughing and staring at my ass, like always.

  "Stop staring at my ass, Xavier." He just shrugged his shoulders like he was innocent. "Can't help it," he uttered. "I can't believe you called me Katy Perry." I smiled and turned away. I replayed his words, and couldn't help wondering if he was at least partly right about Damon.

  I SAT AT THE bar, fishing for keys in my gigantic purse that was filled with crap I didn't need. I really needed to clean it out. It was beyond ridiculous that I could acknowledge the fact but still not do a thing about it. Urgh.

  "Ariel, go out with me."

  Oh my God, he never stopped. I loved the back-and-forth banter, and if it was any other guy, I would have probably gone crazy, but Xavier was harmless.

  "Not happening, Xavier."

  "Why do you torture me?" He pouted.

  I shrugged and tried to ignore him.

  "Ariel, I was fine until you kissed me. I could handle the rejection, but why did you let me get a little taste just to punish me? Please, please, I need you! My body, my heart wants no one else!" Xavier shouted. He was so damn dramatic, and he'd already captured several people's attention.

  Great. "Are you seriously not gonna let that go? Come on, you're not that desperate. Besides I don't even remember this kiss you keep talking about. Are you sure you haven't been dreaming about me again?" I winked at him.

  "What?" Xavier leaned over the bar, got right in my face, and whispered, "You wound me."

  I rolled my eyes and that seemed to encourage him.

  "Okay, I see how it is. You want me to woo-oo-oo you with my music. I've got a little skill. I'll sing to you." Trish laughed and told him to go for it. He always got worse with attention. She knew that.

  "Stop encouraging him, Trish," I grumbled. "Xavier, please don't do this again. I beg of you."

  He snapped his bar towel tow
ard me, got my attention, and started moving his hips. He was a great dancer. Xavier dramatically grabbed the beer nozzle. "Your milkshake brings all the boys to the yard." He spun around in a circle extremely fast and fist-pumped the air. Now, thanks to Xavier, the few people left were being entertained, and I was the center of attention. I hated attention. If I could have hidden my face in my purse, I would have. But nope, couldn't because of all the piles of shit. I busted out laughing, which happened a lot around him.

  "Stop it, please!" I buried my face into my chest as much as I could. I was beyond embarrassed. Xav leaned over and kissed my cheek, which was a bold move on his part.

  "Ah, I love that blush," he whispered and quickly went back to work.

  "Move on, people. Nothing to see," he said toward the crowd.

  We were making small talk around the bar, and I heard someone clear his throat and sit down way too close beside me. It was freaking Damon! Why, of all places, when I clearly saw several chairs open, would he have chosen to sit that close to me? They do that guy-nod thing, and Xavier slid him a beer across the counter.

  "Sounded awesome as always, dude," Xavier said.

  "Thanks, man."

  I couldn't help but glance over at Damon. He was so close I could smell him. His essence was intoxicating. I realized that maybe I was staring, and I fumbled with my purse some more just to try to keep from looking in his direction. It was almost pointless.

  "What's your name?"

  What the hell. Is he actually talking to me?

  "Excuse me?" I asked.

  Damon raised his voice and leaned in a little, like he wanted to make sure I heard him. I'd heard him clearly. I was just surprised he was talking to me.

  "Ariel," I said without looking at him.

  "Ariel." He said my name like he was testing the sound of it, and I had to admit it sounded pretty damn good on his lips.

  "I've never met anyone with that name."

  "Well, now you have."

  A playful smile spread across his face, I'm assuming from my choice of words or my bitchy tone.

  "It's definitely unique, different." His voice was amazing. I felt like I could listen to him talk forever. It was smooth, silky and deep with a touch of something I couldn't find the right words for. I simply shrugged because I didn't trust my words at the moment. My mom had named me after Ariel from The Little Mermaid. It was too hard to bring my mom up when I tried to explain it.

  "Well, it suits you." Apparently he wasn't giving up on trying to talk to me.

  "Is that a good thing?" I reluctantly asked.

  He leaned back on the chair and had it on two legs. I could feel he still had his eyes on me. As sexy as he was, I couldn't help but have a quick image play in my head of him busting his ass on the floor. I had to cover my mouth to try and hide the smile that wanted to show. He quickly dropped it back down, took a sip from his beer, and said, "Definitely, can I buy you a drink?"

  "Umm… no, but thank you." I then got the courage to make eye contact because I assumed he had been waiting on it. Damon looked a little shocked then it clicked to me that he probably had never heard that word come from a female. So-o-o freaking sad. "Not used to the word, huh?"

  "No, guess I'm not." He laughed.

  "Hmmm."

  "Hmmm what?"

  "Are you seriously talking to me right now?"

  "Yes, words are coming out of my mouth, aren't they?" He smiled.

  I couldn't help but glance at his mouth as he said that.

  Goodness gracious. Get ahold of yourself. His lips were plump and perfect, and he broke out into a sinful smile when apparently he'd noticed where I'd been looking — where I was still looking. I quickly snapped out of it but not as fast as I would have liked.

  "It's just a little weird, I guess. Every time you have seen me in the past month or so, you've never talked to me. It's like I don't exist. You just look at me like you hate me."

  Damon laughed deeply and scratched his forehead. He sat there quietly, bit into his bottom lip and played with it. When he wasn't biting it, he was rubbing the tip of his forefinger across it.

  I need him to stop that shit.

  "You're something else." He smiled. "I like your honesty, though. It's like you don't care about what I think of you. Are you like this with everyone?"

  I raised my eyebrows at him. "Sorry if I disappointed you, but I don't care what you or anyone else thinks about me." I smiled back at him. "It's a God-given talent."

  "Ariel, I notice you just fine and, from your tone, it seems like my ignoring you has bothered you, maybe just a little, wouldn't you say?"

  I said nothing and he continued.

  "Anyway, I haven't ignored you, per se. I'm just now choosing to do something about this little staring situation we have going on. I figured you would have already come up to me, but that never happened. You're different. I'll give you that."

  Smirking jackass. Oh, so he thought I would have already fallen at his feet by now like the entire female population that constantly surrounded him.

  "Is that what you think? That it bothers me that you haven't spoken to me before? You're mighty fond of yourself. Perhaps I should call you King Damon?"

  He threw his head back in laughter. I loved the sound.

  "You said it, not me, and I don't hate you. Let's be real clear on that."

  He looked me up and down as his eyes raked over my body then slowly moved his gaze toward my eyes and smirked at me. There it was — finally. That sexy smirk he threw to all his conquests. Poor thing, didn't even know who he was messing with. He may have been the hottest guy I had ever seen — and maybe even the most charming — but I had way more self-control than to fall for his shit.

  I hoped so anyway, because I was banking on enough control over my own body to not fall at his feet. "But you have to admit King Damon does have a nice ring to it." I'll play his game. "Oh my gosh! Damon-freaking-Black has actually spoken to me." I threw my head back and fake-fanned myself. "I guess from all your lady groupies this is about the time you expect me to run out and go get your name tattooed on my body."

  Damon was sipping on his beer and sprayed some of it down the front of his shirt. He covered his mouth, all the while choking and laughing at the same time. He quickly got himself in check, much faster than I ever could if that had happened to me.

  "Wow, feisty," he murmured as he took his palms and wiped his mouth.

  "Something wrong, King Damon?" I batted my eyes at him. Damon leaned into me, and how someone who was just drinking a beer, and had been inside a bar all night smelled delicious, I had no clue, but he sure did.

  "Ass… since it's my name I should get an input on where it goes, don't you think? I want to see it too," he whispered seductively. His eyes pierced mine. "Ariel, tell me something. Would that be your first tattoo, or do you have others?"

  "You'll never know, but I'll tell you one thing…"

  "Yeah?" He arched his eyebrows. "What's that?"

  "If I'm ever stupid enough to get a man's name tattooed on my ass…" I paused just for dramatic purposes, just to make him think as I leaned toward him and whispered, "…I promise it won't be yours." The sexy facial expression he was wearing turned into a cold glare as he narrowed his eyes on me. Yup, there it was. That was how I was used to him looking at me. Game point, Ariel!

  "Can it be mine, Ariel?" Xavier laughed. I wasn't even aware we had an audience listening to our conversation. I cut my eyes toward him to tell him to shut up, and, if looks could kill, Xavier would have been on the floor from the look Damon had already thrown his way. I slid off the seat and walked away, but my feet stopped me when I heard his voice.

  "Don't be so sure princess, and by the way, that's a mighty fine ass, very worthy of my name."

  I turned around to face him but kept walking backward. "You sure do talk a lot." He smiled. That smile could make a girl weak in the knees.

  "We can always do something else." He winked.

  I raised my hand and
saluted him the best way I knew how and turned for the door. I couldn't believe he'd talked to me like that. No wait, I couldn't believe he'd actually talked to me period. Trish stopped me to ask about the schedule. Thankfully, she'd missed that entire conversation. I overheard Damon and Xavier talking.

  "What's her deal?" Damon asked.

  "Maybe she just doesn't like douche bags, dude."

  "Really Xavier? Then why the hell does she talk to you?"

  I smiled at that. They laughed it off, but I could tell by the tone they weren't too happy about the exchange of words with one another. I made a mental note to stay away from him and not to ask Xavier if anything else was said after I left.

  CHAPTER TWO

  WHEN I GOT HOME TO GRAMS, she was asleep in her recliner. I hated to wake her because she looked so peaceful, but she couldn't sleep in that chair all night. She wouldn't be able to move if she did. I sat on the couch to relax for a few minutes, and I couldn't help but stare at Grams. It was times like this, when she was sleeping and, dare I say, quiet that I really saw my mother in her. They looked a lot alike. Grams was exactly what I pictured my mom looking like when she grew old. If she'd had the chance. Little things like the high cheekbones, the big green eyes, and the way Grams smelled. She was sixty nine years old and looked great for her age. I wasn't sure if they used the same shampoo or lotion, maybe even perfume. But it was there, the scent, and sometimes as weird as it was, I smelled my mother. I knew Grams noticed though I tried not to be obvious, but she never said a thing. I was pretty sure she knew why I did it. It was comforting.

  She was smart, not too much could get past that old bat. Grams was amazing, but she could be a bit much, I guess. She was brutally honest and hardly ever thought before she spoke. We had several epic moments from just that fact alone. Oh, and if she didn't like you, she just simply didn't. Nothing would change that. Grams had a witty sense of humor, like my mother had, and some of her meals tasted just like my mother's. Grams had taught Mom well. I knew it was extremely difficult for her to lose her only daughter and take a heartbroken, pissed-off-at-the-world teen into her home. I'd come a long way from where I was a few years ago but I was nowhere near where I needed to be. I was closer to being myself than before and that had to count for something.