Page 40 of Pawn

“Lea!” Allie stops her, getting yet another hush from Damien.

“I can’t believe you brought her here,” Lea says, keeping her voice hushed. “She’s as gross as those out-of-season knee-highs you wear.”

“She owed me and I couldn’t do it without her,” Allie explains. “Wait, my boots are gross?”

“Yeah,” Lea doubles-down, brushing at her skirt. “Like you got them at a vintage shop in the eighteenth arrondissement. Not the good part.”

“The first thing you do after I save your ass from your school is to insult me?” Allie asks. “You’re such a fucking brat.”

Lea smiles, blinking.

My jaw is on the floor watching these two. They stare at each other for what seems like an eternity before Allie lunges for a kiss, Lea latching to her like a monkey. They go at it, Lea’s leg hitching under Allie’s ass, her jewelled fingers grabbing her hair.

Damien watches them with a smirk on his face and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing. They’re not too far off from us. I don’t even know how Allie can kiss someone like that but I’m sure she’s wondering the same thing about Damien and me. As they go at it like flies to moulding fruit, Damien’s eyes bore into me. Like he’s trying to tell me something with the way his eyes sparkle under the sun. The sound of an engine pulls me out of his gaze and when I look to the left, there’s a black car waiting.

“Let’s go,” Damien says before he leads us to the car and opens the door. He ushers Lea inside, pulling them apart before Allie follows.

I’m about to do the same when there’s a tug on my arm, my boots skidding against the concrete.

“Not so fast!”

Pulling away, the grip tightens. When I look over my shoulder, the man from the Science Centre has me in his clutches, a glare on his goateed face.

“Get the fuck off her!” Damien yells. He’s by my side in a flash, shoving on the man’s chest.

“What? No,” he says, unthreatened by Damien’s demeanour. “Are you drinking? Just what do you kids think you’re doing?” I’m struggling to get out of his hold but he has a grip on my jacket tighter than Jaws.

“Sir?” The driver looks out the window.

“Go!” Damien yells before turning his attention back to the man, car pulling off. “I’m giving you two more seconds to get your filthy fucking hands off her. One.”

“That’s my student!”

“And that’s my girl. Two.”

CRACK!

Fuck.

Damien’s fist goes flying in the man’s nose, his grip finally loosening, my arm flying free. A whistle blows and when my head whips to the sound, an officer has his eyes on us. He yells something in French, crossing the cobblestoned street before Damien locks his eyes with mine.

“Run,” he says.

And I do.

Fast.

I’m not sure where I’m going, crossing a street into another small alley. Damien’s boots thud behind me before another whistle blows.

“Arrêt! Arrêt! Stop!”

My heart pounds against my chest but I keep running before cold fingers wrap around mine. The smell of peppermint and weed comes closer, my hand in Damien’s and I hold on tight, moving with him through the streets. We dodge carts and restaurant signs before ducking down another small path.

We’re almost at the end before he pulls me into a narrow opening, walls covered in vines on each side. The space is just big enough for us, my back pressed against a wall.

My eyes land on his, my breaths heavy. Damien’s is the same. It reminds me of how we are when we’re tearing each other’s clothes off. There’s a whistle in the distance, the yell of a man but all I can stare at are those eyes.

Pulling my gaze away, my stomach doing flips, my eyes fall to his hard pecs, his chest moving up and down under that jacket. Damien slips it off and I watch him mesmerized as it reveals his tattooed arms. Then the other. The sweat in his hair makes a few strands fall in his face. And before I can ask, he brings his fingers to his lips before he presses his mouth to mine.

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