Damian (6 page)

“Fine,” I said, sounding exasperated, “I’ll take one for the team.”

And for the next half hour, Damian showed me how to eat sushi with chopsticks and watched as I painstakingly ate the rest of the sushi without the use of my fork or hands.

“Thanks for that last thirty minutes of entertainment,” he teased as he watched me pick up the pieces of rice and sushi bits that had inevitably fallen onto the floor on their way to my mouth.

I made a face. “I didn’t realize that I’d be working for my dinner.”

He laughed as he got up to throw the sushi containers in the trash bin the kitchen. On his way back from the kitchen, he walked past my dresser that stood next to my bed and picked up the lone photo frame I had on the dresser.

“Is this you? And your mom?” He looked up from the photo and then at me.

“Yeah, it’s me and my mom.” I smiled at the memory behind that photo. “It was my first time in front of the pottery wheel and my mom was teaching me how to center the clay that day,” I closed my eyes and tried to remember as much detail as I could from that moment.

“She’s pretty. You both are.” His voice was surprisingly soft, and I opened my eyes and met his. His rich blue eyes were soft and warm, and at that moment, it wasn’t the same Damian I had seen at the stairs or the same Damian I had seen at the bar. At that moment, I saw a different side of him that I had never expected would exist.
Can he really have room for feelings inside him?

“Thanks. She was,” I said softly. I quickly looked away to hide the moisture that appeared in my eyes.

“Oh. Sorry. I…I didn’t mean to…” His voice trailed off, and for the first time since I’d met him, he seemed uncomfortable.

“No, it’s fine. You didn’t know,” I reassured him.

“When did she pass away?” he asked.

I looked up at him, and from the look on his face, I knew he was genuinely interested in knowing more about her. Most people asked me the same question when they found out, but rarely did they actually want to know. They only asked because they thought it was the right thing to ask, because they didn’t want to seem insensitive, or because they wanted to end the awkward silence that usually occurred after they inadvertently found out about her passing. But Damian’s expression was different—it seemed honest and sincere.

“My parents passed away in a car accident when I was thirteen. That was ten years ago.” I walked over to Damian. He handed me the photo, and I looked at it. “My mom was a pottery instructor. Actually, she went to U.C. Berkeley, and then after graduation, she moved to San Francisco and started teaching ceramics here.”

“That’s amazing. How did she end up in Iowa?” Damian studied me. He still seemed a little uncomfortable. It was almost like he was worried that I would break down and cry in front of him.

I looked up at him and gazed into his rich blue eyes. They were no longer the piercing blue eyes I couldn’t stare at for too long for fear of getting lost in them. They were now warm, forgiving, and soothing, and I realized how comfortable I was with him—comfortable enough to tell this stranger about my parents.

“My dad’s from Iowa. He was on an annual company convention here in San Francisco, and for one of the company’s team development events, there was a wine and clay event at the pottery studio where my mom taught. My mom was one of the instructors that night, and according to my dad, it was love at first sight. My mom said that she only agreed to have dinner with my dad the next day because she took pity in him. Apparently, he was such a disaster on the wheel that he got more wet clay on his clothes and face than on his finished product.” I laughed at the story because my parents always laughed and teased each other when they told it. Tears began to well up in my eyes. “They were amazing together, and their love was infectious. Everyone who saw them together knew that they belonged together. And when I think back to all the distant memories I have of them, their love for one another was one of my most poignant of those memories.”

“They sound like they were great parents,” he said softly.

“They were the best,” I agreed. I quickly wiped my eyes and looked up at him. I felt a connection with him, so strong that I knew it was undeniable. A part of me wanted him to pull me into his arms and hold me. But if he did, I would never want him to let me go.

Then I immediately shook the thought out of my head. Who was I kidding?

“Anyway,” I said as my attention turned back to the photo in my hands, “this picture was taken when I was eight. It was the first time I was in front of a pottery wheel and my mom was teaching me how to center the clay onto the wheel. You know I always wondered what I was learning to make in that picture and whether it was one of the many pottery pieces I still have.”

Damian moved closer toward me to look at the photo again from over my shoulder. “Center the clay?”

“Yeah, that’s the first thing you have to learn to do on a pottery wheel. Making sure your clay is completely centered on the wheel while it’s spinning. It’s probably one of the most important things to master.” I looked at the photo and laughed as the memories of that day came back to me. “I was awful at it.”

“I’m sure you were perfect,” Damian said encouraging.

“I guess you of all people know what it’s like to be perfect,” I joked, trying to change the mood of the conversation.

“Damn straight. Perfect is my middle name,” he said with a laugh. Then his face became more serious. “Hey,” he began, his voice surprisingly gentle.

“Yes?” I asked hopefully. At that moment, our faces were only a few inches away from one another, and I wondered if he was about to kiss me.

“Thanks for sharing that story with me,” he said almost in a whisper. “I don’t usually hang out with girls like this.”

I smiled at him, unsure how to respond. I didn’t want to read too much into his words. I thought there was something special in this moment between us, but the mention of the other girls and my flashback to the gorgeous blonde he was with just the other night quickly brought me back to down reality. I wondered how many girls there were in this man’s life. I wondered if he was like this to all of them. He had warned me earlier that he wasn’t a sweet guy.

Stop thinking too much
, I told myself.

“Yeah, well… So this is one of my favorite photos of me and my mom,” I said as I placed the photo back on the dresser.

“Do you still do any pottery?”

“Yeah, I do. Pottery reminds me of her.” I took one last look at the photo.

“Do you have a studio?” He looked around my nearly empty apartment.

“Yeah, I found a pottery studio close by that I can work out of. I actually get to teach every Saturday there, so it’ll be a nice change to a work week at a desk job.”

“Nice. Maybe you can teach me a few things one of these days,” he said with a suggestive wink.

“As long as it’s just pottery,” I rolled my eyes.

He laughed. “You’re no fun.”

“And you’re all about pure fun,” I threw back at him.

“Fun’s my middle name.”

“I thought it was ‘perfect’?” I challenged.

He chuckled. “I have many middle names.”

“Of course you do,” I said sarcastically.

“Oh, by the way, you left this box at the bar when Roger came to unlock your door.” He picked up the Amazon box from beside my front door.

“Oh! Thanks! I didn’t even see you bring that in.” I took the box from him.

“What did you get? Pottery stuff?”

“No, they’re just some books I bought on Amazon recently.”

“Oh? What do you like reading?”

“You read?” The second the words came out, I immediately realized how presumptuous and rude that must have sounded.

To my surprise, Damian laughed. “Well, okay, not really,” he said sheepishly. “So what did you get?” He nodded toward the box.

“I got some travel books.” I excitedly opened the box.

“Well, that’s different,” he said in surprise.

I smiled as I took from the box
Lonely Planet
guidebooks for Thailand, Peru, and Italy.

Damian glanced at the books and then gave me a curious look. “Are you about to go on some around-the-world trip?”

I giggled and realized how different and how far each of these countries were from one another. “No. I actually have no upcoming plans to travel at all. I don’t have enough money for that right now.”

“You’re not? So…” His voice trailed off as he motioned at the guidebooks.

“No. I got these travel guides because these are three of the countries I’d like to visit eventually.”

“Okay…” I could tell he didn’t understand what I was thinking.

“I have a question for you,” I began. I knew it was unconventional to buy travel guides for places I had no current plans to visit. I knew I owed him some sort of explanation before he thought I was nuts.

“Shoot.”

“If you had all the money in the world, what would you do?” I studied him to see how he’d react.

“I would pay off some debt and buy this building from Roger so I wouldn’t have to pay rent and lease my bar space,” he responded.

I shook my head. “No, I mean, if money wasn’t an issue, if you could do anything you wanted, what would you do? The question really doesn’t have anything to do with money or finances. I’m asking what you would do that would make you happy—what would you do with all your free time if you didn’t have to worry about money and everything that comes along with money, like working, bills, and responsibilities?”

“Oh,” he said and paused to think about my question. He then looked at me. “What would you do?”

“Well, up until a few months ago, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you. But recently I realized that I hadn’t been really living my life the way I wanted. I have read about all these amazing places and pictured them in my head, but I really didn’t know anything about them. I have lived in Iowa almost my entire life, and while I have read so much about the world around me, I’ve never actually experienced any of it for myself. So if I had all the money in the world, I’d travel.”

“Yeah. I’d love to eventually travel more as well,” he said thoughtfully.

“Have you traveled anywhere?”

He shook his head. “Not really, unless you count visiting Vancouver, Canada, which is less than three hours north of Seattle.”

“Ah. I heard Canada is beautiful. It’s on my bucket list too.”

“Your bucket list?”

“Yeah. I made a long bucket list recently of all the things I want to do in my life.”

“What else is on there?”

“Well, my main thing on there is that I want to visit all seven continents before I turned thirty, which is why I got the travel guides. I thought they would help motivate me to save money for these trips.”

“Oh wow. That’s an ambitious goal.”

I laughed. “I know. But I still have seven years.”

“So a continent a year?”

“Well if you put it that way, then yes, something like that.”

“Oh shit!” he said suddenly as he looked at his iPhone.

“What?”

“I need to get back to the bar. My other bartender is almost done with his shift, so I need to cover tonight.”

“Oh. Okay.” I felt a mixture of disappointment and relief.

I walked Damian to the door, and as he walked into the hallway, he turned around at the doorframe and looked back at me.

“You know what?” he asked.

“What?”

“There’s something about you, Alexis,” he said as his rich blue eyes bore into mine. “Hang out with me sometime this week.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He said it as if he knew what my answer would be.

“Can I ask you something?” I asked back.

“Shoot,” he said coolly.

“Are you asking me out on a date or are you just having some fun?” I was surprised by my own boldness.

He was silent for a brief moment before he answered, “Alexis. I think you’re really cool.” He then paused.

I sensed a but.

I was right.

“But I want to be perfectly honest with you. I’m not looking for a relationship. I don’t do commitments. I’ve never been that type of guy. I never will.”

His answer felt like a punch in the stomach and it left me gasping for air. As much as I had expected this answer, I knew deep down I had hoped that maybe there was something special here, that maybe for me he’d make an exception, and that maybe I was special. But I’d been wrong.

“Damian, I think there’s something about you too,” I said, echoing his words. “And I think you’re really cool too.”

“I hear a but coming,” he said.

“But—”

“And there it is,” he said. I caught a look of disappointment flash across his face.

I looked at him solemnly and wanted to laugh at how in sync we were but couldn’t. I wished things were different—that either he would be interested in a relationship or I would be okay with being one of his many casual female friends. But things were not different. I knew that I could get hurt if I put myself in that situation. I wanted something real, something deep, something meaningful.

“I’m just not that kind of girl.”

“That’s too bad,” he said.

“Thanks for keeping me company, Damian. And for the sushi lesson,” I said with a meek smile.

“Any time. You take care of yourself, Alexis. Don’t be a stranger.”

And with that, he was gone. And I felt overcome with a sense of loss as the first thing that had made me happy and comfortable since I moved to this new city had just walked away.

CHAPTER SIX

Damian

SOMETHING SOFT, WET, AND HUNGRY around my morning wood woke me up. I groaned and involuntarily moved my pelvis up to meet the warm wetness.
Not a bad wake-up call, but how did she end up spending the night?

I yawned and forced my eyes open, turning to my left toward my bedside table. It was 10:20 a.m. Vague memories of last night started coming back to me. It had been another crazy Friday night at Damian’s, and there had been a group of hot girls having a bachelorette party at the bar. I had ended up taking a series of shots with them after a number of them order a round of shots off my body, which was what Damian’s was infamous for. The rest of the night was a drunken blur. All I remembered was having two of the girls from that group over to my apartment for a little night cap, having a bit of fun, and passing out.