Page 52 of Damnation
Thomas closes the door behind them, and as I stare back at him, I can feel an immense anger rising up inside of me. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong withme?” he asks, his eyebrows rising. “I come back here thinking I’m going to find you alone, and instead, I catch you letting that idiot feel you up in my bed. Is this normal behavior for you?” He pulls off his shirt and throws it on the desk, revealing a powerful, virile body soaked in sweat.
I put my hands in my hair and clench my fists. I can’t believe he’s really going to make a jealous scene about this. “He wasn’t feeling me up; we were just messing around!”
Thomas steps toward me, and I can hear the anger in his voice when he says, “And while you were ‘just messing around,’ did it ever occur to you that you were wearing a fucking T-shirt with nothing underneath?” His dark gaze settles on my breasts.
Frustrated, I let my head fall back and heave a loud sigh. “He has been my best friend since I was six years old, do you get that? I’ve already told you, he’s like my brother!”
“But he’s not your brother,” he interrupts me sharply.
“Nothing bad happened; you are making a mountain out of a molehill. Also, he’s dating someone!”
He laughs, but there’s no trace of mirth in it. “His girlfriend will be pleased to find out that, in her absence, the two of you enjoy swapping spit and rolling around in bed together,” he taunts me.
“Thomas,” I chide him with a hard look.
He gives me an arrogant look up and down and then shakes his head, waving one hand to dismiss me. “Let’s just stop this right here. It’s always the same story with you anyway; I tell you that I don’t trust someone, and you flip out because you see everything through rose-colored glasses.”
“No, it’s because you see a potential threat whenever someone breathes near me!”
“Yes, and I’m fucking right!” he shouts, punching the desk. Then he turns and heads for the bathroom, so I rush after him.
“Where are you going?”
“To take a shower.”
“You’re not going anywhere while we’re still talking!” I yell at him.
“I don’t want to listen to you. So if you wanna talk, talk to yourself. It’ll probably be the best conversation of your life.” He slams the bathroom door so hard, the frame shakes, and then audibly locks it.
I slap my palms against the wood until I feel them tingle. “Thomas, open this door! You can’t just do this!” I keep raining down blows on the door and screaming his name until, finally, I give up. Exhausted and anxious, I pull on a sweater and go downstairs.
Vince is on the couch, still in his running gear, along with some guy I’ve never seen before. They’re playing Xbox on the huge TV.
“Everything all right, Gem?” Vince asks, giving me a brief look.
I nod vaguely, pulling the sweater tighter around me.
“This is Kyle,” he informs me, pointing to the boy next to him, who is still too engrossed in the game to take his eyes off the screen. Kyle just nods at me, maneuvering the joystick as if it were a steering wheel.
“Vanessa. Nice to meet you,” I say without enthusiasm.
When Vince asks if I want to join the game to “get humiliated by yours truly,” I decline with a smile and promise to save the humiliation for another day. I glance around, uncertain what I should do. I could also go out for a walk, but it’s still raining outside, and to be honest, I don’t really feel like it.
So, with a sigh, I head for the kitchen and look around for something to nibble on. As I do, I take the opportunity to familiarize myself with the new space. I open the pantry and find it stocked with sweets and snacks. Seeing the sacks of sugar and flour, and a bar of chocolate, I decide I could make a cake. I retrieve the butter, milk, and eggs from the fridge, and grab two pears from the fruit basket. I dig out a large mixing bowl and get to work. I break the chocolate bar into small squares and put them in a saucepan to melt over low heat. In the meantime, I peel the pears and cut them into slices. I mix the melted chocolate with the rest of the ingredients until I have a batter. Then I pour the whole thing into a buttered pan and arrange the pear slices on top. But the sound of wood creaking makes me lift my head and look out the kitchen doorway into the living room.
Something vibrates in my stomach when I see Thomas coming down the stairs shirtless, barefoot, wearing just his sweatpants. His hair is messy, and his chest is still wet. His face is a dark cloud. He glances into the living room, where Vince and Kyle are still on the couch. He ignores them and enters the kitchen instead, filling the room with his freshly washed smell. He doesn’t say anything, just grabs a can of Coke from the fridge. He pops the tab and brings it to his lips, his gaze fixed on me the entire time. Meanwhile, all of my attention is focused on themovement of his Adam’s apple as it rises and falls with each swallow. I grit my teeth and look away. I’m still mad at him, dammit! He can’t just freak out and then cut me off like that every time he gets suspicious about something.
I walk past him, pretending not to notice his presence, and slide the pan into the oven. Then I start washing all the dishes I’ve dirtied. He leans back against the kitchen cabinet next to me, watching my every move.
“I thought you’d left,” he says after a while, his expression indecipherable and his voice low.
I frown and raise one eyebrow as I continue washing the bowl. “I was tempted to.”
Thomas scrubs a hand over his face in a frustrated fashion. “I would have deserved it.”
Well, for once we agree on something.
