“Nah, I get it. One look at your mom and I can tell she’s a raging bitch on a mission,” he comforts. “You in school or anything?” he asks, genially curious.
I sigh heavily. School; another burden my mother forces onto me.
“Well, I’m working on a generic bachelors right now because I'm not sure what I want to do after that. My mom keeps pushing for all these careers like Law Enforcement Officer or Lawyer, but they aren’t for me.
“That’s crazy; she really is trying to push you in the opposite direction of your father,” Shadow replies, shaking his head. “So what is for you then?” he asks, tilting his head, his eyes piercing me.
I half laugh, realizing I'm telling him more than I want to.
“Okay.” he says, noticing I'm not answering that question. “Tell me this, is some stuffy businessman wondering where his gal up and left to? What about your friends?” He looks at me with hooded eyes.
How should I respond to that? Even if I say I am seeing someone, it won't stop him if I'm on his radar of future bed notches.
“My mom never liked my taste in men, she always chased them off. She can be fierce when she wants to be.” I smile, not answering yes or no. “As for friends, I have a few, but no one close.” I doubt they even realize I left.
I feel the hair on my neck rise and my heart beat accelerate. “Why are you staring at me like that?” I ask, before looking at him, uncomfortable under that dark gaze of his.
He smiles, looking down at the sand before lifting his head and catching me with those smoldering eyes. The tenderness I see there makes my heart catch fire.
“You always play with your lip when you're nervous?” he asks. I drop my hands and sigh at myself. I have been around this man for five minutes and he knows my tics; been around my mother my whole life and she has never noticed. “So, what are your plans now?”
Haven’t we talked about me enough? I sigh heavily. “I have no idea. After seeing how the other half of me lives, I’m confused on what lies in my future.”
“What do you mean?” He throws a sea shell out into the water, making his arm muscles flex. My lips part and heavy breaths escape. I remember him grabbing me off the bed at the clubhouse like I was a toy, weighing nothing. He turns and looks at me again with those heavy blue eyes, then throws me that cocky grin of his. He knows what he is doing, damn him.
“Uh.” I pause, trying to remember what the question is. “I mean, I did everything my mother asked without question. She wanted me to stay on some righteous 'path' of hers, never thinking about what I might want. I didn’t go against her because she was my mother. I thought this path was for me to have a good future and because she cared. After seeing the bigger picture, though, I think this 'path' is a silent battle my mother has had with my father the whole time.” I pause and close my eyes. “I know that sounds like a whiny little princess,” I confess, feeling just that way.
He smiles and grabs my hand off the sandy beach, giving it a light squeeze. Even this tender touch makes butterflies swarm in my lower abdomen. This simple gesture says he can relate with being damaged; torn. Shadow is making it so easy to open up to him, which is dangerous. Revealing my vulnerabilities is making me feel close to him, something I know he wants nothing of. I need to reverse the tables on these questions, and fast. He is a player, and he is playing the game very well. I’m not used to someone laying on the charm so thick; I fall under his spell easily.
I lift my eyebrow inquisitively and pull my hand from his. My hand turns cold instantly wanting his touch back. “What’s your thing, Shadow? I ask, mocking him from his earlier question.
“Heh, besides the club, you don’t wanna know,” he says, cynically.
Not sure if he’s talking about drugs, or women, or something darker, I turn my head away from him. “Yuck, no I don’t,” I reply, earning a chuckle form him.
“Club life, baby,” he says flippantly. Is it sad I want to be part of his club life? Actually, no I don’t, I just want Shadow.
“So what about you, how did you land in a motorcycle club?” I ask, trying to get off the topic of him being a whore.
“'Nother time,” he says, standing up. Wait, what?
“What, seriously? I just spilled my whole life story and I don’t get anything from you?” I stand up placing my hands on my hips. If he thinks he is not going to tell me something about himself, he’s mistaken.
“I just don’t open myself up to others, Dani,” he replies honestly, with sorrow in his voice. Obviously someone had hurt him in the past and it haunted him.