Page 30 of The Reaper
I like this look on you.
You need to get out more, girl. Take that bull by the horns.
I took one last glance in the mirror, loving what I saw reflecting back at me, and I smiled, clenching the fist that a week ago I’d used to slam into this damn mirror.
Walking into The Sanctuary, I held my head high. I had as much right to be there as everyone else, and I wanted to live a little. I’d scanned the room a few times, it was so busy that it was hard to see amongst the crowds and the dimmed lighting, but I couldn’t see him. Maybe he wasn’t working tonight? That’d be just my luck. Come all this way, all dressed up, and never get a chance to actually see him.
I’d bought myself a drink and noticed a few men looking my way as I walked away from the bar. I had intended to head to a quiet corner for the night and wait to see what would happen, but a guy had stood in my way and started to talk to me. I didn’t want to be rude, so I let him get all his ridiculous chat-up lines out, but I was ready to let him know I wasn’t looking for anything and I was here for the music, that’s all.
But I didn’t need to.
The prickle of goosebumps that’d spread over my whole body when I heard his deep, gruff voice over my shoulder, telling the guy to, “Fuck off. She’s with me,” had made me tingle. My head swam in reaction to the nerves that had hit my stomach and charged through my body like that bull I was supposed to be taking by the horns.
She’s with me.
I loved how that sounded. Like I was his. Like he didn’t want anyone else near me, and I turned to look up into his eyes. I thought I saw a hint of possessiveness, jealousy even. But then, when the guy walked away, it was replaced by something else.
Was he annoyed with me?
The Devon that stood in front of me tonight was a far cry from the surly enigma that I was used to seeing stalking around in the shadows of Brinton Manor. Instead of his trademark dark hoody and jeans, he wore a black suit, white shirt, and black tie. Vigilante gangster chic looked good on him, and it smelt good too. I inhaled slowly, trying not to show that I was breathing him in as he leered over me. But my hazy sunshine was soon eclipsed by dark clouds.
“You never learn, do you?” he questioned angrily. “I told you to stay away.”
His words would’ve cut deeper had it not been for the protective arm he put around me, pulling me closer to him, letting me feel the warmth of his body. A solid, strong body that made me want to melt right there on the spot. The feel of his breath on my cheek, against my neck… damn, I felt him everywhere. I couldn’t think straight, so I stood my ground and argued back. I fought for what I wanted.
Him.
When he lifted my hand and asked me how I was feeling, I damn near lost my mind––I definitely lost my train of thought, and I started wittering on about paperweights, totally forgetting that I’d given him a different story to the one I’d told my dad. I couldn’t ever think straight around him.
But then things took a turn. He started to say that he couldn’t protect me and argued about the fact that I was out, alone. I didn’t want him to see me as some weak female. I wasn’t weak. I had weaknesses, but didn’t everyone? And I wasn’t some foolish little girl he had to take care of. I didn’t want to be seen as a burden. My mind spiralled, veering from defending myself to trying to see things from his point of view. And then he hit me with the killer line, “I worry.”
Inside, my heart screamed,‘He does think about you. He worries. He cares.’And so, I squared my shoulders, cleared my mind of any doubts and asked him to dance with me. I wanted to entice him, draw him out, make him see me as something more than Jodie’s cousin. A little bit quirky and a whole lot awkward, with a side helping of paranoia and insecurity. I wanted to be his equal. Iwashis equal. He just couldn’t see it yet.
I took to the dance floor, and closed my eyes, dancing like only he was watching. But my doubts didn’t stay hidden for long. When I felt arms wrap around me, I knew instinctively they weren’t his. Then, in a flurry of chaos, Devon flew across the dance floor and punched the guy who’d grabbed me. The same guy that’d tried to chat me up earlier. The fury that radiated from him was palpable. The anger in his eyes was terrifying. And I couldn’t shake the guilt that I’d brought this on myself. It was all my fault. Why did that guy have to dance up to me? Why couldn’t I dance on my own without being touched? Why the fuck had I thought it’d be a good idea to come here tonight?
Adam and a few of the others stormed the dance floor, and when Adam said, “Not here. Take this outside,” my guilt intensified.
I’d watched Devon for long enough to know he didn’t like to lose control in front of others. He always held his restraint in public. In private, it was another matter, but in public, he was the master of self-restraint, self-discipline, and quiet control. This was the worst time and place for that to be compromised. This was his business, his livelihood. I felt ashamed. Angry that the guy had put me in that position, but ashamed all the same.
The other soldiers steered Devon away, and some girl came up to me, flanked by a security guy. If my shame wasn’t written all over my face before, it was now.
“Hey,” the girl said, pulling me gently from the dance floor towards the foyer at the front of the building. “I’m Liv. Are you okay? Do you want to come upstairs and have a drink to calm your nerves?”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to be here anymore. I needed to leave.
“I’m just going to go,” I said, turning and heading for the door, but Liv held out her hand to stop me.
“You don’t have to go,” she said with a look of concern etched into her brow, but I wasn’t staying. I’d made up my mind. The damage had been done, and I needed to go away to lick my wounds.
* * *
Liv drove me home that night, all the time trying to get me to open up about how I knew Devon and whether something was going on. I gave her vague, evasive responses, instead steering the conversation towards subjects I felt comfortable sharing, like my dad’s latest church group, my music, or just plain silence. When she eventually pulled up in front of my house, I thanked her for her kindness and got out, not once looking back as I ran inside and locked the door.
And so, here I was, sitting and staring at the poster on the wall, wondering why I hadn’t flown high like it’d promised. I prayed that when I next saw Devon, he’d let me down gently. Because despite the way he’d held me in the club, I knew he didn’t feel the same way I did. And knowing that hurt more than any fist on a mirror.
You always thought you knew him better than anyone, but you don’t.
If you really knew him, the night would’ve worked out differently.
