Trust Me (6 page)

I whisper, “Damien, I’m scared of how intense this has become, but I can’t bear the thought of never seeing you again. Please…let’s just take things slow and see where it goes, okay?”

“Baby, I feel the same way. I can live with that for now. I’m not trying to scare you off.” He gets out of the car and walks to the passenger side to let me out.

I grab my bag, and I start to make my way toward the sidewalk when he grabs my hand. He brings me back to him and gives me another kiss. With this one, he makes me feel as if I am the most valuable thing to him. As he is cherishing me, the walls around my carefully guarded heart continue to crumble. He slightly pulls away from me, and our breaths mingle.

“Let me walk you to the hotel.”

“Not tonight, please. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to turn you away, and I’m not ready.” I need some space and control pronto to think about everything that has happened.

He starts to protest, and I do the only thing I know to hopefully win this little impasse.

“Waleska,” I say quickly.

“What?”

“My last name is Scott, and I live in Waleska, Georgia. I currently attend Reinhardt University. I am not running, Damien. I just need to process. Please.”

The sincerity in my voice causes him to relent. He runs his finger down my cheek, and I automatically lean into it as we continue to gaze at each other.

“Thank you. My last name is Wales. Now, please go to your hotel and straight to your room. I’ll call the front desk in a bit and have them connect me to your room to make sure you made it safely. I will be counting down the minutes until I see you tomorrow morning. Good night, baby.” He gives my face one last caress.

I smile at Damien and turn to walk away. I am both elated and scared shitless about everything that has come to pass since running into him.
What is happening? What is going to happen?
I look both ways and start to make my way across the road. After a few steps, I turn to give Damien one last wave good-bye, and then I blow a kiss to him.

“ALLI!”

That’s the last thing I hear before everything goes black.

What a night!
How does this kind of stuff happen to me at the most inopportune times?

I’m waiting for the X-ray results to come back while lying in a hospital bed in one of those awesome gowns they insisted I wear.
Who designed these things to be almost sheer with only ties to hold it together? That person must have been a serious pervert. Who in his right mind would feel comfortable like this in front of total strangers?

The blankets are drawn up almost to my chin because the guy that I think I am kind of seeing is in the room, and I am not ready for him to see any of my unmentionables at this point, especially at a hospital of all places. The room is a harsh white with all the normal things a hospital room would have, including that antiseptic smell.
Ugh, I hate hospitals.

Damien has been incessantly worrying over me since the incident. He has not stopped moving since we got here. With how he is reacting, I would think that I had been in a serious accident.

“Please, Damien, can you sit down and turn on the TV? You are going to wear a hole in the tile if you keep up your pacing.”

Paying no attention to my request, he rubs his forehead. “What is taking so long?”

“This stuff takes time, Damien, especially with all the tests you asked to be run. I’m not even sure if this could be classified as an accident. Be patient,” I say, trying to be as calm as possible even though I find this all to be totally over the top.

Incredulously, he responds, “Alli, you were basically run over.”

“No, I was clipped on the elbow by a moped.”

“You fainted.”

Ah, this is getting me nowhere!
“I have a low tolerance for pain. I was hit on my funny bone. I’ve fainted before for similar reasons. For the record, I am not disclosing those other incidents to you as I would like to keep some of my dignity intact.”

I give him a playful smile and receive a level look in return.
Good grief.
I reach for the remote, turn on the TV, and start to flip through the channels. His repetitive motions are making me a nervous wreck. He’s pacing continuously—ten steps across the room, turn around, ten steps back—and then he rubs his forehead three times. Repeat, repeat, repeat. I need a distraction, so I continue flipping through the channels.
What do you know?
The only thing on is sports, sports, and more sports.

“Ugh.”

He stops and looks at the TV. “Sports can’t be that bad. It’s all strategy and skill.”

“Or a bunch of little men chasing a ball in meaningless circles.”

He gives me his first semi-smile since the
accident
. Hopefully, I am finally making way with Mr. Overreaction.

“Are you hurting? Do you need more Tylenol?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks for asking for the millionth time.”
Oh, and now, I am back to receiving that level look. At least the damn pacing has stopped.
I decide to recant. “I’m just cranky and ready to go.”

Finally, the doctor strolls into the hospital room. He’s a stubby man with a receding hairline and a five o’clock shadow.

“Good evening, Miss Scott. All of your X-rays and test results are good, just as we expected. We are going to work on discharging you. Your elbow will be sore, so we will send an ice pack with you to use as needed. I am going to prescribe a low dosage of pain medicine for your head. If you have any sudden dizziness or intense headaches, please come back immediately. Take it easy for a couple of days. Do you have any questions?” His voice is really soothing, like a grandparent reading a bedtime story.

“No. Thank you, doctor.”

Damien, of course, has some questions, and I laugh internally.

“Did you run all of the requested tests?” His tone has completely changed. It’s distant and businesslike.

“Yes, and all came back normal.” The doctor remains professional, but I wonder what he’s making out of all of this. “Is there anything else either of you need prior to me discharging her?”

“No.”

Damien’s dismissive tone catches me off guard. The doctor looks at me, and I can see that he thinks my date is a little overprotective. I couldn’t agree more with him.

As he is leaving, he adds, “Remember to look both ways before crossing the street next time, Miss Scott.”

Seriously, the doctor also finds this comical.
Ha-ha.
I give him my best salute and glance over at Damien. He is emitting a death glare at the good ole doc.

I just want to go. Trying to give an adorable smile, I say, “Hey, turn that frown upside down. We get to leave.”

“I’ll be out in the hall…unless you need some help?” His voice has turned warm and is laced with hope.

“I think I’m good.”
There is no way in hell that he’s going to see me naked for the first time in the hospital.
Is he crazy?
He walks out the room as he pulls his phone out of his pants pocket, while giving me a semi-worried look. I give a warm smile in return, hoping to placate him. I just want to go back to my hotel room. After I finish getting dressed, I walk into the hall.

Damien is standing there with the phone up to his ear. “Take care of it. He needs to remember that I’m the one paying his fucking check.” That cold, distant voice is back.

When he looks over to see me, he hangs up, and his demeanor immediately softens as he walks toward me. “Hey, let’s get you back to your hotel room.”

“Sounds good.”

He puts his hand on the small of my back and escorts me toward the exit.

It’s just after four in the morning when he starts the car and exits the hospital parking lot. I lay my head back and close my eyes.

His voice comes through the space between us, enveloping me and making me feel cherished. “Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?”

“I’m okay. I’m sure I’ll be a little sore. I just want my pillow.” The growling from my stomach makes another need known. My cheeks feel hot from the embarrassing noise. “And I guess maybe a snack.”

“Are you hungry? Shit, we didn’t have dinner.”

I crack my eyes open and look toward him to see genuine concern on his face. “Yes, but no worries. I’ll get room service.”

“Are you up for some breakfast? We could stop somewhere. I think there’s a Pancake House up here.”

I’m so tired, but I don’t want to leave him. Part of me is afraid all of this is a dream, and I’ll wake up at any moment. My stomach growls again. “Geez, I think you have your answer.”

He laughs, and one hand goes to my thigh. “I like that answer.”

We pull into the parking lot at the Pancake House moments later. The smell of batter and bacon greets me as we walk in through doors.
Mmm.
Breakfast is my favorite meal since it’s the start of a fresh day. We are escorted to a booth in the back of the restaurant. A bouncy young brunette waitress saunters up to our table. No doubt she has already gotten an eyeful of Damien.

“Can I get you anything to drink, sugar?” Her hip is cocked to one side.

“Alli, what would you like to drink?” He has not taken his eyes off of me since she walked up to the table.

“Orange juice.”

“Two glasses of orange juice.” He holds up two fingers as he still maintains eye contact with me.

The powerful intensity between us is building again.

The waitress huffs and leaves. She’s obviously disappointed that she has not received any attention from him.

He casually lays his hands on the table. “I noticed your hospital bracelet said Allison, but you asked me to call you Alli. Which name do you generally go by?”

Wow, he’s really observant.
“Normally, I go by Allison. In case you were unhinged, I improvised.”

I shrug as he smiles.

“I like Alli. Allison is a beautiful name, but I prefer Alli. It makes it special for us.”

The fact is that I like the way his voice turns possessive as he says it. It’s just too soon, too fast for me to have these thoughts, but the way he says the word
us
does things to me.

“Alli it is then,” I agree.

The waitress comes back to deliver our beverages. She has definitely taken the time to spruce up. I notice she has unbuttoned the top two buttons of her uniform.
Can we say desperate?
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes.

After we place our order, I hear a frustrated sigh from the waitress as she saunters off.

“Our waitress is upset that you’re not paying attention to her,” I say.

“I am interested in only one person. No one else compares. You said you live in Waleska. Believe it or not, I’m in Atlanta. When are you heading back?”

The fervor of his voice causes me to blush. He’s so open with his feelings for me, but I just can’t bring myself to tell him that I feel the same way. However, it doesn’t stop my heart from doing a happy dance.

“I head back late Wednesday evening. You?”

“Next Tuesday. What brought you to Miami?”

My entire world suddenly closes around me. I cannot believe that it has slipped my mind. Today is the one year anniversary of my parents’ death. Damien and the moped incident have completely distracted me.
How could I have forgotten?
All of a sudden, I feel sick as the waitress approaches with our food.

I slide to the edge of the booth and stand. “Excuse me,” I mutter, not waiting for a response.

I dodge several trays of food on my way to the restroom before I push through the doors. My heart hurts at how I could have forgotten them. I feel like I betrayed my parents. I rinse my face with water and take deep breaths in and out, trying to calm myself down. This is not the place for a breakdown, especially in front of a man I just met.

I walk out of the restroom door in a fog. Damien gently grabs me by my shoulders and brings me to the corner of the hallway. He’s searching me all over.

“Alli, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Do you need to go back to the doctor?” The concern and distress in his voice are clear.

“No. Can you take me back to the hotel? I need to rest. I’ll pay for breakfast.” I hear myself talking, but right now, I feel so disconnected from my body.

He continues to peruse me as if he’s missed something from his initial scans. “Don’t be ridiculous. What’s wrong? What happened?” He’s not letting me go.

“Please, Damien, can we leave? I need to leave. I can’t talk about it right now. Please.”

He studies my pleading face for a few seconds, and then he begins to escort me quickly from the hallway to the front of the restaurant. I feel so protected when he is around. He pulls out some cash from his pocket to cover our bill and gives it to the hostess before we leave the restaurant. He opens my car door, helps me inside, and then makes his way over to the driver’s side. As we drive to the hotel, I stare out at the streets of Miami in a trance.

His voice makes me jump. “Alli, what’s wrong? Did I say something? You just all of a sudden shut down, and I don’t know what to do.”

He pulls into the same parking lot across the street from my hotel, and he shuts off his car. I know I need to give him some explanation, but I am too tired to have this conversation right now. I know I would only break down into an absolute mess. Whatever it is we have going on, being the blubbering girlfriend with out-of-control emotions just seems a little too fast.