Page 10 of Damien
“Speaking of busy.” Damien clears his throat and locks his eyes on mine. “Do you have any plans tomorrow?”
Did he just ask me out?
My heart rate spikes, and my hands sweat.
Was it just last night that I was having a conversation with Sydney about possibly dating again?
Just as I’m about to say no, I remember Julia’s birthday party.
Shoot. There’s no way I can make plans when I have a house full of people coming over tomorrow. Who knows when the party will end? And Vince and Sydney have plans tomorrow evening. I’m sure my face falls when I admit, “Uh, yeah. I have a family thing going on.”
Damien shrugs it off. “I completely understand. Family first. Always.”
If only he knew how true that is.
But I like this carefree and playful side of myself when I’m around him, so I’m not ready to spill my guts entirely to him. “Yep,” I admit.
“I’d like to take you out as a way of thanking you for your help yesterday,” he offers.
Shoot. Did I read this wrong?
Is this not a date?
God, this is what I get for even thinking about dating last night.
I shrug off my disappointment. “There’s no need. We’re all good.”
Damien’s face falls for a fraction of a second but then he regains his composure. “Okay, then.”
Unfortunately, I can’t question him about this further because Jeff hollers, “Van, order’s up,” and I’m forced back to my reality. By the time I get a chance to return to him, he’s finished his meal and Tara has rung him up, so he doesn’t have to wait for me.
But what if he was asking me out, and I was just too obtuse to do anything about it? Crap. I told him we’re all good… Now, he probably thinks I’m not interested. What the heck do I do now?
4
Damien
Well,that went over like a lead balloon. I finally get her talking and feel comfortable enough to ask her out, and I make it sound like a pity date. No wonder she blew me off. I’ve been wanting to ask her out for some time but never felt the timing was right. But to make it sound like it was returning a favor? Could I be more of a jackass?
Unfortunately, my mind replays my mishap on a loop throughout the day. I’m so freaking distracted when OSHA shows up for a surprise inspection, it takes me a minute to figure out what’s going on. Talk about getting caught with your pants down. I show the inspector where my employee tripped. Thankfully, he doesn’t find negligence as far as safety is concerned. In the end, he basically deems the poor guy just had a case of dumb luck. Of course, with a labor and industries claim, I’ve spent more time than I had filling out paperwork, so even though I’m not behind—technically—I feel as if I am. Thank God, Mal had most of it covered, and I just had to look a lot of it over to sign off on it.
When I’m finally able to call it a day, I’m still out of sorts. I’ve never had difficulty asking girls out before. I’ve never been what some would call a player, but I’ve had my share of interested girls. I’ve spent my early twenties young, single, and ready for fun. Now that I’m growing out of that scene, I’ll admit substance is a great quality to look for in a relationship.
Hell, Vanessa might think I’m a dinosaur and not even be interested. For all I know, that was her way of letting me down easy.
But why did she seem disappointed when she had other plans if she isn’t interested?
The better question is why am I still thinking about this?
As I make my way into my kitchen from parking my truck in the garage, I toe off my work shoes and realize I might be too keyed up to work on installing the baseboard in my master bathroom now that the tile is set. There’s no doubt I’ll mismeasure, and the entire night will turn into a cluster fuck.
Maybe I could use my pent-up frustration to demo the kitchen cabinets as new ones are set to arrive next week. Hopefully, one of the guys from my crew won’t mind picking up a side job to help install them. Some things are just more efficient as a two-person job.
In my bedroom, I change into a pair of well-worn jeans I only use for construction and a loose black t-shirt. I grab my old work boots from my closet and sit at the end of my king-size bed to lace them up. I don’t spend much on myself, but I’m over college mismatched furniture. This bedroom set was one of my first purchases when I finally got my first real job in my career. Well, that and actual matching living room furniture.
I swear I had the world’s ugliest couch in college. It was comfortable, but it was like a ninety-year-old picked it out. It was baby blue with pink flowers and ruffles on the arms. Everyone used to make fun of it—until they had the pleasure of sitting on it. Then they could overlook the design for its ability to pull you in and put you at ease in an instant they settled in, they never complained again. In my defense, it came with the apartment as it was heavy as fuck to move.
Making my way out to the kitchen, I’m proud of the accomplishments I’ve had with this house. I still need to finish the wood floors, but those will have to wait until I finish all the other projects. No sense in scratching them unnecessarily. Thankfully, I make fast work and get a few cabinets dismantled from the wall in no time. I’ve just finished putting them out of the way in the garage when my phone rings.
