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I sighed and rolled up the sleeves of my shirt. I needed to get to work and make sure she got well soon and moved out of this hellhole.
But first, I needed to cook her something and air out the place.
I stopped when I noticed the familiar white mask on her nightstand table. I picked it up, tracing the feather with a small smile. She kept a memento from that night.
32
DREAM DAMON
SUMMER
I don’t really remember what happened after Damon dropped me off at Heather’s place. I remember walking back to my place, rain hiding my tears and getting completely soaked. My phone rang, and I took it, water droplets falling on my small bathroom as I tried to get out of the soaked clothes.
I remember shouting. And crying. Carol, my biological mother, had called me in a drunken stupor, complaining about her alcoholic boyfriend who didn’t love her.
It felt like a fever dream.
Especially when I opened up my heavy lids to the handsome and worried face of Damon, mine inches away from his.
I closed my eyes again, knowing I was dreaming. Damon would never know I lived here or else he’d never stop teasing me. And why would he care?
“Summer?”
I waved him off, my limbs feeling heavy. “Go away. I know it’s just a dream.” My throat felt scratchy, and I needed water. I snickered. Dream Damon can bring me water though. “Bring me a glass of water.”
Dream Summer sat up and hazily blinked at the blur of broad shoulders and a blue shirt moving around in my kitchen. I yawned as Dream Damon brought me a glass of water wearing a cute apron that read: Hot Stuff Coming Through. “You’re definitely hot alright,” I mumbled, sipping the water and smacking my lips.
“How are you feeling?” Dream Damon asked, kneeling beside my bed-slash-couch-slash-desk and touching my forehead.
I frowned and flicked his forehead. It felt very real. “What the fuck?!” I cried out, jumping and spilling water on his shirt as he sighed. “What? This is real? You’re here. Why are you here? Are you Damon?”
“You’re feeling much better.” He took the glass from me and said, “And yes, I’m Damon.”
“B-but how?” I asked, taking a tissue in time to sneeze on it. My hair was in a braid, and I hadn’t braided my hair for over a year. “Did you braid my hair?”
Very real Damon looked away and replied, “Yes. It was getting in the way.”
I clutched my chest. “In the way of what?”
Then I looked around and saw medicines on my small island. There was a bowl of water with a damp cloth beside it. I touched my forehead. He must have tried to cool down the temperature of my body.
“Take this,” he ordered, handing me some capsules and a glass of water. “You got cold after getting soaked in the rain. You should have taken my umbrella.”
He was scolding me, which was very normal, and I relaxed, taking the meds. “How did you get in?” I asked in a small voice.
His glare hardened. “The door was fucking open, Summer.”
I winced. “I must have forgotten—”
“Forgotten to lock your fucking door? You live alone in LA, in the worst neighborhood, and you forgot to lock your door?”
I glared at him. “If you are here to scold me, you can leave.”
His eyes turned cold. “Like hell. There are druggies shooting heroin in their arms downstairs. You are moving out, or I’m kidnapping you.”
“What?” I asked, feeling dizzy. “I’m too sick to have this conversation right now.”
Damon sighed, and I noticed that he hadn’t shaved. A sexy five o’clock stubble peppered his sharp jaw. I must be really sick because I said it out loud. “Your stubble looks really sexy.”
