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

{19} The Devil In Disguise Has A New Bike

It was about ten minutes until midnight when Damon passed out on the old, torn leather sofa. My logic and instincts told me to sneak out while I could and leave him to sleep in peace.

But when I stood, it wasn't the front door I went to.

I wandered down the hall instead, peeking my head into the two vacant rooms at the end of the dimly lit entry way. One room was empty; no furniture or wallpaper. Just a large, dark room lit by the moonlight bleeding through the open window. The other door was open a crack, revealing little at first glance. As I nudged it open, I stumbled in and glanced around in awe.

I didn't think I really have any expectations when it came to what I pictured Damon's room looking like. Seeing it before me, I realized I may have lied to myself.

I had expected the room to be a complete mess. Trash all over the floor, bottles of beer on the nightstand, possibly even a pack of cigarettes on top of the comforter. What I was greeted with was a room like my own, small and organized. The bed was made, but slightly disheveled as if someone had sat on it for a while and stood up without fixing it. A pile of folded laundry sat at the foot of the bed on the black comforter, a tiny trash bin under it.

Before I could stop myself, I crossed the room and brushed my fingertips along the nightstand, face twisting a fraction when I saw an open pack of cigarettes on the left side of the lamp.

I guess I had been right about one thing.

I sat slowly, gasping quietly when I felt something dig into my leg. I pushed the blanket back and pulled a small wooden picture frame from where it'd been hiding under me. Falling back, my eyebrows drew as I stared down at the photograph.

It was a family, the young boy in it clearly Damon. He was wearing a genuine smile, blue eyes glistening. A blonde woman and dark haired man stood on either side of him, both looking at each other with forced smiles instead of the camera. Damon's brother Daniel wasn't upfront in the picture, but could be seen sitting on the edge of the fountain in the background, staring off into the distance with a bored expression.

"You enjoying snooping through my stuff?" a groggy voice asked in the door way.

As if it'd make a difference, I tossed the frame across the bed and stood. "I'm sorry. I was looking for the bathroom."

"You shouldn't lie, McKenzie." Damon stretched his arms behind his head. "Not a good look on you."

I shifted uncomfortably as he pushed his bedroom door shut and shrugged out of his jacket. I averted my eyes immediately when he reached down and pulled his dark shirt over his head.

"You act as if you've never seen a man shirtless before." Damon whispered, closer now. I swallowed, lifting my head for a fraction of a second. I regretted it immensely.

It shouldn't have come as too much of a surprise that Damon had a nice body; he prided himself on it. I just hadn't been in the presence of too many shirtless drunk guys that just wanted to stand around and talk like it was nothing.

"I got a new motorcycle." he went on, brushing by me and dropping a set of keys on top of his cigarettes. "Thanks to my outstanding decision to save you instead of my old one."

My head whipped up in anger. "I'm sorry you regret saving me. What a thing to live with for the rest of your life."

"Mmm, sweetheart, no need to get so defensive." he took the picture frame between his hands. "I didn't say I regretted saving you."

I started toward the door. "I think I should get home."

"And leave a poor guy alone on his eighteenth birthday?" he frowned.