I climbed up to the window as I had done countless times, though not for a few years. Being that the window was on the second story, it had its complications, but luckily for me this particular window looked out on the roof of the patio in the back. Damien's form came into the room, and he slid the door shut behind him. Within a second, his shirt was off, and he was starting for his jeans.
Damien, easily, is the kind of guy girls would go crazy over. 24 years old, he had a perfect smile -- pearly white teeth, perfectly straight and even, the whole nine yards. It was coy, charming, mischievous, and heartwarming, sometimes all at the same time. He had a dimple in his chin, only adding to the overall charm.
His hair was a huge focus of many. It was so black that it was almost blue, it did whatever he wanted it to, and looked good longer with the just-rolled-out-of-bed style or buzzed short when he was too lazy to deal with a barber. It was the kind girls just wanted to run their fingers through, and currently was set in the former style.
The deep rumbling voice was a mark in his favor, giving him a bit of a mysterious/bad ass edge. He stood a bit over six feet and sported a perfectly chiseled body-six pack abs, strong arms, but he was lean like a swimmer rather than bulky. More than a few tattoos found their place on his arms, back and torso. Finally, the eyes they were bright green and full of emotion. The kind of eyes that could get a girl in trouble, and they only lit up further when he smiled.
I was more of what might be considered pretty in a plain sort of way -- if you could even count me as pretty at all. My dark brown reached past my shoulders, almost mid-back, but no one would ever know because it was always balled into an old lady bun. I was only about 5'5" and a bit underweight, on a good day maybe reaching 110lbs. I was a bit curvy decent ass and breasts that were a little out of proportion to my small frame again no one would ever know because I was always hiding in my clothes. I can't describe myself as toffee, or caramel, I'm more the color of a brown paper bag. My eyes were my favorite feature, dark brown with flecks of gold and eye lashes thick like a mascara commercial, and I had been told more than once that my smile could light up a room. It was just a little past my 20th birthday.
Since I was still perched outside his window and he was still undressing, I decided I did not want to be taken for a peeping Tom and tapped on the window. Damien looked up from his undone jeans and squinted towards the window. Even knowing he wouldn't be able to see me until he turned the light out in his room, I waved, thinking who the hell else would be perched on a rooftop in the middle of the night- on a night in the middle of winter no less. Finally, he turned off the light and was able to get a good look at me. One of his charming smiles spread across his lips causing me to smile in return.
After refastening his jeans, he rushed towards the window, unlatched it and threw it open; I fell through it and straight into his arms. "What are you doing here?" He asked in his deep rumble. "Aren't you freezing? I think you've graduated to using the door."
"Hell yeah I'm freezing." I responded with a bit of a laugh. "I'm not ready for the door hurry up and close the window."
He reached behind me and slammed it shut while I rubbed my hands together for heat "Come here." He turned to me and wrapped his arms around me again. It had been years since I felt a hug from him, and it was a sensation I missed every day. Even better, his body was warm against my cold skin. Damien let out a sigh. "It's so good to see you, Nikki."
"You, too, Damien. Jack ass I still can't believe you left this town without me." We both laughed, pulling out of our hug. "How are you?"
His smile faltered, and what was left was habit without a hint of truth or joy. "I'm good. I'm ok, hanging in there."
"Don't lie to me, Damien. I didn't just climb on top of a frozen fucking rooftop for that. There's no way you're okay." Damien's mother had been killed by a drunk driver less than a week earlier. He was the youngest of three brothers and easily the most fragile, though he tried to play it off that this wasn't true and was constantly trying to live up to David's- his oldest brother's- "accomplishments" and tough guy attitude.
Damien sat on the bed, looking down at his hands. After a few quiet seconds, I sat down next to him, resisting the urge to curl into a ball or wrap his blankets around myself. The bitter cold was clinging to my clothes. I put my hand on his arm, trying to be comforting. He pulled away sharply, with a slight gasp. "Sorry." He chuckled a bit. "You're hands are freezing. Get out of that coat it's keeping in all the cold air." Jack glanced around then picked up a fleece blanket. "Here, take this blanket." I shook out of my snow covered coat and pushed my shoes off my feet. He wrapped a blanket around my shoulders as I curled into myself. I guess I didn't have to resist that urge for too long, he must've been reading my mind. Damien kept both of his arms around me, rubbing his hands up and down my arms through the blanket trying to get me warm.
I caught his eye while he looked down at me and we both smiled. "I've missed you like crazy you know." Silence followed my deepest sincerity. It was the one absolute certainty in my life. He stopped rubbing, though his arms stayed around me, more out of lack of movement than conscious choice. His eyes did not catch mine again. Rather than remain in the nothingness, I broke the tension with a repeat accusation. "You always promised you'd take me with you when you got out of this rotten ass neighborhood."
He slid away from me and picked his shirt up off the floor, beginning to pull it back on. "Nikki you know I would've taken you with me if I could've but you had school, and I didn't even know where I was going to end up. I was running around the east coast with some shitty band trying to pretend I was about to be a rock star." His voice was soft. He wasn't growing annoyed or short tempered, but merely stating what he saw as facts.
"I could have been the world's best traveling fan." I said with a smirk.
"School."
"And when did you ever care about something as mundane as school, Damien?"
"Since my best friend turned out to be one of the smartest people in this neighborhood. Someone who could actually make something of herself if she stayed at it. Someone who could do better than what this neighborhood had to offer her. Someone utterly brilliant in every way. Someone who deserved more."
"Man you sure know how to flatter a girl."
He looked me straight in the eye as he spoke, but as soon as he was done he looked away. His eyes searched around the room. My stomach flipped at his admitting to thinking of me as his best friend. I was nearly four years younger than him, but from the time I was 12 and he first moved to the neighborhood, I spent more time with him than anyone else.
I was 14 the first time I crawled through his window, my parents constantly too doped up or drunk to notice or care that I spent my nights sneaking into the bedroom of a 18 year old boy. Of course, any concern they would have had would have been misplaced. He and his brothers were the siblings I had never had. They teased me and looked out for me. I imagine his mother even knew that I spent nights there, one of us sleeping on the floor; nothing ever got past her. She allowed it, though. I suppose because she felt bad for me my parents' antics were notorious. Nothing had ever gone beyond friendship between me and Damien.
I hadn't noticed until he sat down next to me again that I had allowed myself to disappear into a day dream, remembering the past. When he looked at me again, I couldn't help but smile. "So, where did you go? What did you do? I want to hear everything."
He began to tell me about everything he'd done in the past few years. Occasionally I would press him for more details, or call him out on obvious fabrications. We poked fun at ridiculous things that had happened, and I scolded him for any time he got himself into trouble. All the while we kept our voices down as to not bother any of his brothers in the house. It was exactly how things were before. We even sat cross-legged like children across from each other on the bed.
It finally came time for me to ask him the question that had been on my mind, though the answer was something I was not particularly anxious to receive. "So, how long are you staying?"
All of the laughter went out of his eyes, and it became obvious that the answer was something he was not anxious to give. "I don't know, but I'm definitely not leaving until the end of the trial. If he gets off then me and my brothers will..."
"Damien." I wanted to reach out to him, but held back.
He shook his head. "Nikki, he killed my mom. How could we let that go if he doesn't go to jail?" His eyes began to shine with the onset of tears and endless pain. "She was crossing the damn street..."
"I know."
"No you don't!" I was taken aback. He had never raised his voice toward me before, but when I saw the tear fall from his eye I knew that he wasn't truly angry with me. He took a deep breath, wiping the water from his eyes, and looked at me. "I'm sorry." Damien moved toward me and shifted himself around so that he sat directly next to me with his back and mine sharing the headboard of the bed. There was nothing else to be said at that moment. So we sat in silence.
I looked down and noticed that I was half under the covers of his bed. Strangely enough, I had no recollection of pulling them over myself. "You're staying tonight, right?" Again my stomach lurched, though I tried to give nothing away in my face. "I mean, for old time's sake." He clarified. This only slightly lessened the excitement going through me at the thought of him wanting me there.
"I guess you know no one will miss me at home." We sat up for nearly an hour after that, talking, joking, and catching up some more. We avoided any more serious conversation, the closest thing being reminiscing about life before he went away and the good times we'd had with his mom.
At some point he picked out one of his t-shirts and an old pair of shorts for me to change into. They were both way too big for me, but they smelled like him and were much more comfortable than my jeans so I was glad to change. The entire time, I was very aware of his body next to mine. He was warm, as always, and sat a bit closer to me than would have been necessary on his full sized bed. A few times, his arm would brush mine, sending a jolt through my heart, but mostly I felt the rumble of his voice through the mattress.
