Caught in Us (Lost 3)

"Yeah," I say.

"Dani, you are burning my control in a way I didn't think possible."

"Funny, I can say the same."

"Okay." He leans on his back, next to me. "No more kissing tonight or I will not be responsible for my actions."

I giggle.

"What?"

"Nothing. I can't believe you're here, in my room. Well, I can't believe that this—us—is real."

He turns to one side, frowning. "Why not?"

"I suppose it's because I spent so much time imagining what it would be like to have a boyfriend, constructing scenarios and...Don't mock me," I punch him lightly when he starts chuckling. "Girls do that."

"How's the reality compared to your little scenarios?"

"I didn't think it could feel this good and intense," I say truthfully.

"It usually isn't."

"Has it been like this before for you? With other girls?"

"Let's not talk about other girls," he says gently. "I have nothing to hide; I just don't think it's good pillow talk."

"You’re right."

"And for the record, no. I have never felt this way."

I nod then blurt out the most inappropriate of questions. "You've made love to a lot of girls, haven't you?"

His gaze bores into mine for a long time before he answers. "No. I've been with a lot of girls, but I will only make love to you."

Chapter Fourteen: Dani

In the morning, I know he left without opening my eyes. The bed is cold, but it still keeps a whiff of his smell. I smile in my pillow, refusing to open my eyes. If last night was a dream, it was the best ever. When my eyes finally flutter open, my smile turns into a grin. My room is as large and peculiar as ever, but it suddenly seems less cold and empty. His mere presence here last night filled it with his warmth. The cup next to my bed reminds me of his gentleness. My tender lips remind me of his barely restrained passion. I see a note next to the cup and pick it up, the tips of my fingers prickling.

Thought it would be best to leave before everyone wakes up. You will have to tell me what you dreamt. You had the most adorable smile when I left you.

My stomach fills with butterflies as I read his note again and again.

"Dani!" My mother's distant voice reaches me through the closed door. It comes through the interphone on the corridor. She's up early for a Sunday. "Come to the living room."

I dress quickly and go downstairs, curious. Maybe it's last night’s bliss, but I’m hoping Mom wants something she never has: to do something together today, like shopping or going to a spa together. Neither things are among my favorite activities, but Mom loves them. I wonder if I could tell her about Damon and ask her for advice about dating and boys in general. Hazel's mom is always willing to give both of us advice on anything. I hold onto the hope that Mom can be like her today. I need her to be that mom today, whom I can tell a boy slept in my room and held me in his arms until I fell asleep. The mom who tells me what part is right, what part is not, and what my next steps should be. I’m self-sufficient in every challenge, but this is foreign territory, and I can’t find the guidance I need alone. I need my mom.

When I enter the living room, I know something is wrong. Both my parents are inside, sitting on the c

ouch. They’re not fighting, screaming, or otherwise hissing swear words at each other. They’re talking in a more civilized manner than I’ve ever seen them. They stop when they notice me.

"Take a seat, Dani," my father says, pointing to the chair next to the couch. After I do, he continues in an aggravated tone. "It was brought to our attention that you have been behaving in an unacceptable way lately." I let out a sigh. The school must have called them after all. "Your teachers are dissatisfied with you. You even got detention."

"One teacher is dissatisfied with me, and I sucked at his subject forever.” I often get B’s in Trig, only rarely managing to scrape an A. Two weeks ago, I got a C—my first C ever—but it’s not the end of the world. “As to the detention, I got one in twelve years of school. I'd say it's about time, isn't it?" I study my parents' faces, trying to understand their sudden interest. Is it just because my school record isn't impeccable for once? Since when do they care what I do?

"We were also told you are spending an inordinate amount of time with Damon Cooper," Dad says.

"Ah," I say, half-relieved to finally understand where all this came from, and half-annoyed. "So that’s what this is about. Damon."