The moment drew on between the two of ‘em for a while, with Damien reaching a hand up and brushing back a stray lock of hair from her face. But at last, he smiled unevenly again and pulled away.
“Gonna go hit the hay, Britney. Didn’t see no car out front, so I s’pose that means you’ll be ridin’ with me to the funeral tomorrow,” he said, turning and strolling slowly towards his former room in the old house.
On his motorcycle?
Just the thought of it gave her the chills — the good-but-bad kind — and then she felt guilty that Mr. Drake’s funeral wasn’t the first thing on her mind. Damien was.
She nodded mutely, a lump in her throat keeping her quiet as she pictured herself grabbing onto those abs as they rode up the dirt road.
It was going to be hard getting to sleep.
* * *
Mornin’ came after a restless night of thinking about the man that was near to a father to her, and Damien.
Though old man Drake was like a pa, Damien could never be said to be like a brother to her. He was older than her by a few years, and so by the time she came over he was already a teenager, doing teenage things when not on the farm, doing the men’s work when he was. She never got to spend much time with him, and then suddenly he was gone.
But none of that kept her from admiring him from afar.
Much like how when she awoke — a lil’ later than she intended, thanks to the restless night — she came out to the sight of Damien getting out of the bath.
He hadn’t bothered shutting the door, shameless or heedless as he was, and she saw him rising up, water cascading off his body. The morning light shone in through the window, glittering off the liquid.
He was big, bigger than his pa even. Broad of shoulder, with muscles like outta the movies! Though unlike those movie fellas, he was dark and hairy, covered in tattoos. A heart was right square in the middle of his chest, a phoenix on his hip. Ebon hair upon his torso, runnin’ down from his pecs through the middle of his abs before coming to…
Oh lord, she nearly fainted!
She’d never rightly seen a man naked, not full on like that. And Damien was full on, alright. Full on man, just… full! And big! Lordy!
He yanked the towel from the rack and brought it to his chest before noticing her, flashing a big ol’ grin in her direction.
She wished the floor would just swallow her whole then because there wasn’t no pretending she didn’t see it all. She swallowed hard but she couldn’t say nothing, couldn’t even move. It was like she was hoping that if she just stayed still and quiet he wouldn’t have seen her after all.
Her nightgown billowed around her thighs, one of the open windows bringing with it a cool morning breeze, and it was enough to wake her from her stupor. She turned on her heels, staring instead at the wall.
“Sorry!”
Damien took his time, toweling himself and then his dark hair off as he strode on out of the bathroom. She could see only a faint glimpse of him from the corner of her view, but he wasn’t making a big effort to cover himself up entirely.
Instead, he watched her for a moment at the door to his room.
“Bathroom’s all yours now, Britney,” he said before he went inside his space, giving her a final glimpse of his rear.
She cursed inwardly,
and cursing wasn’t something she normally did. She went to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her so that she could be alone with her embarrassment. She looked in the mirror and sure as shootin’, her pale face was bright red, her blonde hair a mess all around it.
She took her sweet time getting ready after that, afraid to poke her head back out. But once she finally did, she caught sight of something she never thought she’d see.
Damien stood there, in a suit and tie, and though he sure as shootin’ wasn’t clean-shaven, he was lookin’ like some stud out of the movies, or off an ad. The black suit fittin’ his broad body so snug and tight, but tight in all the right ways, it was perfectly fitted. And the fact his hair was a lil’ tousled and his stubble a lil’ rugged, only added to the way he looked.
“Ready whenever you are, Brit,” he said, hands in his pockets.
Suddenly she felt underdressed in her simple black dress, and shined up mary-jane shoes. She didn’t have much to wear to such a somber occasion, but she did her best.
“I’m ready,” she replied, her head dipping down, her face still feelin’ too hot from catchin’ him nude.
He tilted his head towards the stairs before leadin’ the way.