Playing With Fire (Previously Burning The Bad Boy) (UNDER RECONSTRUCTION)

{18} The True Story of A Full Time Bad Boy

I stared out the hazy window, eyes following the buildings in town as they rushed by in a flash, camouflaging into the night.

My fingers continued to furl and unfurl around my phone, ready to call anyone in case of emergency. The fact I'd agreed to head back to Damon's apartment scared the living hell out of me, and I was temped to jump into the driver's seat and head back home as soon as he climbed out of the car. But I couldn't. I was intrigued by Damon's intent to tell me a bit about his past and it had taken over my logic at some point along the way.

Once Damon slowed the car outside the old apartment building, he kept his fingers curled around the steering wheel. "Maybe this is a bad idea."

"Maybe it is." I agreed.

He threw a quick look my way, as if he were expecting a different answer out of me.

"I get the feeling I'm going to end up in some sort of a near death experience tonight." he sighed, bowing his head.

I stared in silence as he rested his forehead against the wheel, eyes squeezed shut. When he came to the conclusion I wasn't going to respond, he lifted his head up and nodded.

"Let's go inside." he muttered.

I walked around the car and plucked my keys from his hand, setting them in my purse as I followed him into the building. He helped me over the broken stairs and kept a grip on my wrist all the way up. I could hear quiet chatter at the end of the hall, but Damon appeared to be so deep in his own thoughts he wasn't in the present anymore.

It was nice to know if I had to make an escape there were other people still in the building.

"Just sit wherever." he said quietly. I closed the door gently behind me and sat at the edge of the old leather couch. Everything still appeared the same as it had been the last time I was here.

He crossed the room to the kitchen and dug through the fridge.

"I wonder how Ryder feels about throwing you a party and you ditching it."

My comment earned a quiet grunt in response out of Damon. He walked back into the living room with a couple beer bottles in his hands. Sitting beside me, he offered one of the bottles. I waved it off, scratching at my arm nervously.

"Suit yourself." he grumbled, setting the extra bottle on the old table.

"Damon, why are we here?" I asked.

He ran his index finger along the condensation on the surface of the bottle. "It seems like this is the only place you don't seem to almost get me killed."

"That's very observant." I smirked. "Do you want a gold star?"

He laughed. "I'd fucking love one, thank you very much."

We stayed quiet for a few minutes before he turned his full attention back to me. "I know you're dying to ask me something, go ahead."

"Why are you spending your birthday alone?" I whispered.

"Alone?" he gestured toward me with the neck of the bottle, "You're here, sweetheart."

I frowned. "You know what I mean, Damon."

"My parents handed me a hundred grand and told me to stay away." his words were so nonchalant that it took me a minute to process them.

"They kicked you out?" I gaped.

He shifted, kicking his feet on to the couch beside me. "Yes and no. I ran away a lot. It got to a point where my rebellious stage was starting to damper their reputation, so they decided they'd kick the problem child out-of the house and their lives"