“Who’s Damon?” Ryen asked. “Have I met him?”
“God, no,” Misha blurted out. “Let’s get some beers before he shows up. Later, man.”
“Bye,” Will called out as they left.
I let out a sigh, reminded that a lot more people than just me had a past or perception of Damon. He had his work cut out for him if he wanted a future in this town. That was, if he cared about what anyone thought, anyway.
“To be fair,” Will said, setting his chin on my shoulder. “Misha hates everyone.”
“You don’t have to sugarcoat it,” I said. “If anyone knows what I’m getting myself into, it’s me.”
He breathed out a laugh.
And then he stood up straight, still holding me tight. “Having Damon around was the only time I ever felt solid in my life,” he told me. “He’s powerful. But painful.”
The corner of my mouth turned up in a small smile, knowing exactly what he was talking about. The highs with Damon reached the sun.
But our kind of fun had a price.
He pulled away from me, leaving my back, and I stood there as everyone danced around me, wondering where he just went. I moved my hands around my sides to feel for him. Did he leave?
“Alex,” I called.
Where did they go?
And then someone was at my back, the height and broad shoulders covering every inch of me, the cloves drifted on the air, and I knew it was him.
His hand reached around my neck, cupping my face and turning my head, as I closed my eyes and felt him come down, pressing his forehead to mine.
Damon.
His other hand came around my stomach, touching me and pressing me into his body, his chest rising and falling behind me. He felt like five years ago. Like seven years ago.
And I wanted it.
“You’re supposed to be wearing your uniform,” I whispered, feeling the jeans and brushing the hoodie with my hand as I reached up to touch his face.
“This is how you knew me then.”
I appreciated he wanted to be who I fell for in high school.
But they were always the same person.
“As long as you’re Damon Torrance, I don’t care what you wear,” I told him.
He kissed me, melting his mouth into mine and tipping my head back, cradling it in his arm so he could deepen the kiss and sink his tongue into my mouth.
A swirl of excitement spun all the way down to between my thighs, and I was already panting as his heat just made me want so much more right now.
A bed. A whole night. Just him.
“Did you like it?” he asked against my mouth.
“Huh?”
Did I like the kiss? Wasn’t it obvious? My body was a puddle in his hands.
The fountain?” he clarified when I didn’t respond.
He turned me around and lifted me up, and I could feel the draft under my skirt, so I knew it was riding up, but I didn’t care.
Just take me home.
“It was incredible,” I told him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Perfect for sitting.”
Just like we liked to do.
We kissed again, harder and deeper, and I gripped the hair at the back of his head, forcing us to go slow every time he wanted to speed up. I hovered, teasing him, and dipped in for a kiss only to pull away again.
“Winter,” he growled low.
We stayed there, nose to nose and breathing each other in, not wanting to pull away for a moment, even to get out of here and find a bed.
But he put me down and took my hand, leading me off. “Follow me.”
We walked through the crowds of people dancing and hanging out, the music pounding and the smell of grilled food hanging in the air, and I trailed close, holding his hand and his arm, too.
I still wasn’t sure how to feel about a lot of what had happened and what was happening now. What was prison like for him? Did I feel badly about any of it?
What about Arion? What were his intentions with both of us, and what about my father? Did I resent that Damon was the one who exposed him?
I gripped his arm, overwhelmed with just the need for him, and I couldn’t care about the rest right now. Just hide with me. Just hide us away.
We wound deeper into the park, passing some voices here and there, but the music and hustle and bustle of the party were far behind, leaving us on our own the farther we went.
He stopped and rose up. “Steps,” he told me.
I followed him, still holding his hand and arm as I followed him up a small flight of five metal stairs.
We took a few steps, and he paused again, telling me, “The Midnight Maze.”
I smiled curiously, cocking my head. I didn’t remember this, but my pulse quickened at the thought of another maze.
He let me go first, the mobile structure sounding quiet and feeling still. We must be the only ones out here.
Putting my hands out like I did with the fountain this morning, I touched the plastic panels on both sides, hearing them shake as we both walked inside and began down a path. The walls ended here and there, showing me how the maze diverted into different trails, and I stepped quietly in my Chucks, smiling about how silent I could be and getting an idea.
“Marco,” I called.
After a moment, he answered behind me. “Polo.”
I spun around, and he grabbed for me, slipping his hands up my short skirt, but I pushed them back down again, touching his face.
“Close your eyes,” I told him, making sure his lids were closed. “Keep them closed and find me.”
“And if I find you?”
I grinned at his loaded tone and backed away, getting a head start.
“You won’t,” I teased, immediately finding a diversion in the path and slipping off to the left.
I moved slowly, careful of my steps and knocking into the plastic panels, which I assumed were clear, since it felt exactly like the funhouses I’d been in at carnivals when I was younger. He’d better not cheat. He could see me through the panels. I couldn’t see him.
Traipsing down a path, heel to toe in soft steps, I felt the wall end, and I turned right this time, slipping through the narrow opening.
I didn’t know if Damon was moving, but I heard his voice after a few moments. “Marco?” he called, and I heard his voice echo from off to the right.
“Polo,” I replied, trying not to laugh.
I crept along the path, darting into another lane and accidently hitting the toe of my shoe on a panel.
It made a noise, rocking between its screws, and I froze, putting my hand over my mouth.
Shit.
His heavy footsteps made the floors creak, but since this thing was on a trailer, the whole damn floor whined, so I couldn’t gauge where the hell he was coming from.
Until he said, “Marco?” And I gasped, hearing him right on the other side of the panel in front of me.
I winced, squeaking, “Polo.”
A slam hit the panels, and I jumped, knowing he knew exactly where I was and dashing away as fast as I could, not caring that I was loud and clumsy.
“Marcooooo?” he sing-songed, hitting the panels and taunting me as he got caught up in the hunt.
Jesus. Even blind, he was a lion.
“Polo,” I said quickly, slipping into another avenue, unable to control my giggling.
“Marcooooo,” he threatened from somewhere behind me.
Oh, my God. I stepped quickly, banging my hands all over the panels and searching for my way out, but I couldn’t find it.
Where is it?
“Marco!” he called again.
Where is it? Where is it? I searched, flailing my hands and patting the walls.
Finding an opening, I slid through, relief washing over me and finally answering, “Polo.”
But then he was there, snatching me up and wrapping his arms around me. I screamed.
“What’s my prize?” he teased in my ear.
I shook, caught between laughing and fighting to breathe.
“What do you want?” I shot back.
“A piece of clothing.”