?LIBIA (Find my confidence)?
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Chapter Four.
Libia hadn’t heard from her father, but her mother was now in another bout of sadness. Her eyes were always saddened, and her smile never seemed to brighten her whole face. Libia was beyond angry at her father for showing up unnanounced like that.
People in school were whispering about the appearance of Ben. Wondering who he was, mostly. Why he was dragging her away. Her friends were the only ones that knew what happened yesterday.
She’d spent her entire day at school excited, getting re-ady for dance clas-s. Her eyes were brighter, and her smile, too. Everyone seemed to notice the change. Johnson as-sumed confidently that it was him asking her out on a d@t£ that put the light in her eyes. Little did he know, that was far in the back of Libia’s mind. Dance always c@m£ first, for Libia.
So she skipped from clas-s, smiling eagerly to herself. She’d perposely walked to school, so she could feel the warm air on her skin and warm up before she got there. She loved walking.
Libia looked around to make sure no one could see her, and she started down the sidewalk. No one could know about her danceing. She’d make sure no one knew.
Little did she know, Damon was watching her as she suspitiously swept the area. He was sitting on a bench in the park that stretched out beside the school. He watched with raised eyebrows as she quic-kly began walking in the direction of the town. Where was she going?
He checked his watch. He had to be in clas-s in twenty minutes. He had plenty of time to drive there. It takes about five minutes to get there by car.
Libia swept into the clas-s, giving a bright smile to her teacher. Her teacher smiled back at the girl. Libia had been a valuable dancer in the teacher’s eyes.
“Hello, Ms. Vans.” Libia greeted as she headed off to change.
“Hey Libs.” She greeted back.
Libia pu-ll-ed on her ti-ghts, and a white T-shi-t, pu-lling her long hair back in a ponytail.
When she c@m£ back out, Ms. Vans st©pped her. “We’ve got a long-time student coming back today, Libs. He’ll be your p@rtner, since you’re the only one who doesn’t have one. I think you and him will really be good together.” She explained.
Libia felt her cheeks flame. Dancing with a p@rtner. She’d only ever done that once, and the p@rtner had been g@y. He was extremely talented when in the zone, and crazy funny when he just hung out with her.
She swallowed nervously and then nodded, not wanting to dissapoint her teacher.
Well, well, well. Damon thought, a big smile taking over his face as he pu-ll-ed into the lot and saw Libia throu-gh the glas-s windows. Fragile little Libia’s got a secret.
He imagined this was the dance p@rtner Ms. Vans was raving about. He just imagined having her in his arms, watching her perfect b©dy move and twist in sync with the music. He wanted her so much more, if that was possible.
So he swung out of his car, walking confidently up to the door.
Libia turned her head at the sound of the door opening, the little bells hanging on the handle jingled and clanked together. Her eyes wi-de-ned to saucers as they met a ti-ght black shi-t, and moved up, meeting those unmistakable blue eyes.
Oh no.
Oh no.
Ms. Vans squealed and hvgged the boy, and he sm-irked at Libia over the over-joyed teacher’s shoulder.
“It’s so good to see you again.” Ms. Vans gushed, pu-lling back.
Damon grinned down at the woman. “You too.”
Ms. Vans rushed over to Libia, dragging her across the room. “Damon Slain, this is your dance p@rtner, Libia Fields. Now be nice to her, alright? You two are a team from here on out.” Ms. Vans said, mainly looking at Damon.
Damon gave his teacher an innocent smile. “Who said I wasn’t going to be nice?”
Libia was silent, her breathing slightly shallower as she stared up, wi-de eyed in panic at the boy.
“Ms. Vans, I nee-d to talk to Damon alone for a moment.” Libia murmured, her voice breathless.
Damon casually followed her to a quieter p@rt of the room, and then she turned to him.
“Damon, listen to me, you can’t tell anyone about me being here. No one.” She insisted, gr-abbing his arm when he looked away.
He looked at the contact with surprise, electricity zinging throu-gh him, ma-king him feel more alive. His eyes trailed up her small arm, then her shoulder, her n£¢k, and then finally, her eyes. She stared at him urgently, although he could see the blus-h tinging her cheeks pink. He felt…good, knowing a secret that no one else knew. It was something that they shared, and only them.
“I won’t-”
“I’m serious, Damon. Not my mother, not my brother. No one can hear a word of this.” She interrupted.
Surprising her, he shrugged off the hand on her arm and gr!pp£dher biceps, dragging her closer. “I won’t. Say. Anything.” He said, his voice de-ep and sinuous.
Libia could feel her cheeks burning, as she stared up at him. “O-okay.”
He smiled and let her go. “Come on. Ms. Vans is excited to see what we can do…and quite frankly, I want to see what that tiny b©dy of yours is really capable of.” He murmured.
Libia g@sped, her eyes snapping back up to his from where they’d strayed to the floor. That was not a S-xual innuendo…was it? No. Of course not. Get your mind out of the gutter! She mentally sma-cked herself and turned away from him.
She walked over to where she’d plugged her phone in, turning on her favorite song to dance to.
Ms. Vans wanted them to dance seperately at first, and then choreogra-ph something later. So Libia closed her eyes for a moment when she took her place in the middle of the wood floors. And then her eyes snapped open with the beat, and she began moving. Her b©dy twisted and her hair wh!pped around, as she ran forward and dropped, sliding on her knees for a few seconds before she sinuously jumped up, moving her feet expertly.
Damon watched, leaning on the wall beside Ms. Vans, whom was quivering with excitement and pride, as the seemingly quiet, shy, goody-two-shoes girl pu-ll-ed some moves that could only be explained as S-xy. S-xy as hell. She was like a tiger with how effortless the dancing seemed for her.
Before any of them wanted it to, the song ended, and Libia ended her dance in perfect sync. Her che-st heaved, and her smile was one of bliss. It struck Damon to realize just how much Libia loved to dance.
They pas-sed each other, and Damon brushed his hand on her arm and whispered, “Nice job, Babe.”
Libia felt a shiver wrack her b©dy, and she blu-shed.
***
She was jogging home, her music blasting in her ears. She felt the wind in her face, as she relished in the feel stretching her legs. She decided to forgo the Starbucks route, seeing as she had a d@t£ tonight. She felt her gut ti-ght£ñ at the thought, a strange feeling of unease taking over, but she decided it was just nerves. Libia had always had a good s-en-se of intuition. Something she inherited from her mother. About the only thing. Her mother had a strong feeling that her father had been up to something that she wouldn’t like. She’d always felt a strong urge to call work and ask if he was still there when he said he’d be staying late. But she didn’t for a long time, p@rtly scared of what she’d find, and p@rtly knowing that it was her husband, and that she nee-ded to trust him.
But, Libia didn’t want to an-alize this unease she felt. She simply pas-sed it off as having not been on a d@t£ in quite some time.
She arrived home and was planning on going straight to her room, but she was surprised to find Ben slumped over with his head in his hands and his elbows on the counter. His back was to her, but he knew she was there, having heard the door open and close.
“Ben…?” Libia asked softly, settling a hand on his back.
He let out a heavy sigh, saying in a rou-gh voice, “Hey…Libs.”
“What’s wrong?” Libia asked in concern, hearing the pain in his voice.
“It’s…it’s nothin’…just…Dad asked me to move back with him…to get to know my half sister.” Ben muttered.
Libia felt anger and pain for her brother. “He has no right to ask that of you!”
“I want to know her, Libia…she’s my half sister, but I can’t stand the thought of…of them! Together! All lovey-dovey like him and mom used to be.” Ben clenched his fists.
“I un-derstand.” Libia murmured, wra-pping her arms around his w@!st and lying her head on his back. “I don’t want to see it either. But that is our little half sister. No matter where she c@m£ from, she’s family.”
“I won’t move back with him. I refuse to do it.” He muttered, and Libia felt his back tense with anger.
“You don’t have to. Tell Dad that if he wants us to meet her, than he’ll bring her here. If he doesn’t do that, then we’ll arrange a meeting, just her and us. We’ll have lunch together, or we can take her to the peir.” She murmured to calm him down, patting his che-st like she used to do when they were little.
She felt and heard him take a hvge breath, and moved back as he stood up. He turned around and enveloped his little sister in a big hvg. “Thanks, Libs.”
She smiled when he let her go. “No problem. Now I have to go and get re-ady.” She turned to go, but Ben st©pped her.
“Get re-ady for what?”
Libia smiled up at him. “I’m going on a d@t£.”
Ben’s eyebrows furrowed, and he took the “protective stance.” As Libia called it. He crossed his arms, puffed out his che-st, and stared down at Libia with a fatherly look of dubiousness. “Who is he?”
Libia giggled. “His name his Johnson Breaker.”
“How old is he?” Ben interrogated.
“Eighteen.” Libia rolled her eyes.
He narrowed his eyes for a moment, before his stance relaxed slightly. “Okay. If he tries anything I want you to knock him on his as-s, kick him in the nuts, and call me, alright?”
Libia had to laugh. This was a lecture he gave every time she went on a d@t£. Even when she was asked by this really nerdy kid, Carl. She was fourteen years old at the time, and she was starting to blo-ssom into a beautiful young lady. Carl had been a good friend, so she kindly accepted his offer to d@t£. He was a nice, shy kid. They d@t£d twice before they figured out that it wasn’t working for them.
Ben had told her the exact same motto. Knock ’em on their as-s, Kick ’em in the nuts, and call him.
“I promise.” She as-sured.
She turned and ran up the stairs, finally feeling a little bit of giddiness enter her system. She was going on a casual d@t£ to this pizza place. So, after showering, she dressed in a red sweater and black jeans, throwing on some flats. She sl@pped on some eyeliner and some mascara, swiftly putting on some l!pgloss. She left her hair down, knowing that she’d nee-d it when she wanted to hide her face from him, and left it naturally wavy.
Libia got her black hair from her mother. Her mother’s mother was from India. Both of her granparents are Indian. Of course Libia is only half Indian, with only her exotic black hair to show for it. Sometimes Libia gets tired of her hair, but right now it was her saving grace. She nee-ded it like a blanket of protec-tion.
Her brother was half Indian, but he got brown hair from her father. It was a strange thing. All of the girls on her mothers side of the family have black hair, but the men rarely do.
When a knock c@m£ at the front door downstairs, Libia felt herself tense.
She took off downstairs, racing Ben and shoving him away before he could open the door and completely embarras-s her. She smoothed her shi-t and fixed her hair, and then opened the door.
Johnson smiled in at her, and then raised an eyebrow at her slightly heaving che-st, and ruffled appearance.
“Hi, Johnson.” She greeted, smiling like an idiot.
“Hey, Libia. Were you running a marathon?” He asked.
“More like wrestling me.” Ben muttered, straightening his shi-t as he stepped back in the doorway.
Johnson felt himself tense. Uh-oh. Big brother. Not good. He took in the guy as he crossed his arms over his che-st, hovering behind Libia. A protective big brother. $h!t.
“Remember what I said, Libs?” Ben asked her.
Libia rolled her eyes. “Yes. Johnson, this is Ben, my brother.” Libia introduced.
“Nice to meet you.” Johnson said respectively.
Ben gave a nod, which intimid@t£d Johnson more. Libia rolled her eyes, stepping out of the house and slamming the door closed behind her.
“Don’t worry about him. He does that cra-p with everyone I as-sociate with.” Libia muttered.
Johnson gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
***
“So what’s your favorite color?” Johnson asked Libia.
They were sitting in the corner of the pizza parlor, sharing a small pizza between them. The parlor wasn’t busy, in fact there were only a handfull of people in the restaurant with them. Libia shrugged, swallowing a piece of pizza before speaking, “I’d say it was green. You know, like moss on a tree green. I’d always loved foresty colors and themes. What about you?” Libia took a sip of her drink.
“Right now?” Libia nodded in reply. “Brown. Chocolate brown.”
Her cheeks turned bright red. “That’s nice.”
“Yeah. With little specs of gold.” He hinted.
Libia couldn’t help the giggle, and hid her red cheeks with her hair.
“What flowers do you prefer?” Johnson fired off again.
“Um…I’ve always been p@rtial to Lilies.” Libia answered, pla-ying with the table t©p.
“Hmm.” A slow grin spre-ad across his face. “What is your favorite food?”
“Bacon.” Libia answered without thinking, and then she blu-shed.
“A girl with an appetite. I like it.” Johnson replied, taking a bite of his pizza.
Libia laughed again.
“You should laugh more. I like your laugh.” Johnson murmured, leaning forward.
Libia felt shyness creep up, as she looked down at her l@p. Johnson reached across the table, surprising her by lifting her chin. “Hi.” He whispered when her eyes met his.
A slow smile spre-ad across her face. “Hi.”
He sat back, his eyes twi-nkling with an unknown emotion. “What do you prefer, Titanic, or Taken?”
Libia knew what he was asking, suspense, or r0m@n�
“Taken. It’s fun to watch Liam Neeson beat the cra-p out of people. Gives you a s-en-se of justice.” Libia explained.
He grinned again. “I see.”
“What about you? You enjoy Titanic on the weekends?” Libia tea-sed.
“You know it. I just love listening to Sarah McLaughlin belt out belt out that beautiful, yet cliche song that everyone and their granny knows.”
“It’s Celine Dion.” Libia pointed out.
“Whatever.”
Libia had to laugh. And then, as a demonstration, Johnson got up, gr@bb£d Libia’s hand, and began dancing with her in the middle of the restaurant, singing the Titanic theme song. Libia was laughing as her cheeks turned incredibley pink and she buried her face instinctually in his che-st in embarras-sment.
They finished their pizza, and then Johnson stood up. “I’ll be right back. I forgot my wallet in the car.”
Libia nodded up at him, smiling. He paused for a moment, before he leaned down, and pressed a k!ssto her, right on thel-ips. Libia watched, in a daze, as he exited the building for the moment.
Johnson smiled like the devil as he made his way out. His wallet was in his back pocket. Bailey sat on the hood of his car. “re-ady, Babe?” She asked him with a s£dûçt!vesmile.
“Oh yeah.” Johnson said, opening the door for her to get in.
Libia heard the roar of an engine. And she looked up…just in time to see Johnson back out of his space, with Bailey Summers, a girl from her school in the seat beside him. He gave her a two-f!ngered wave, as she stood from her seat.
She just stood there, staring out the window as he laughed, his face cruel, and sped out of the lot. So…all this was for a free meal? A chance to hurt a girl’s feelings?
Well, he did a damned good job. Libia felt her self-esteem drop to zero. Humiliation ignited in her gut, twisting and ti-ght£ñing. She felt tears pour down her cheeks. It had been an experiment, a scam. The bastard had even k!$$£d her!
She furiously wiped her mouth as she pu-ll-ed out her wallet with trembling hands. She went up to the counter, cheeks stained with tears, and began pu-lling out her money.
“Don’t worry about it, Hon. It’s on the house.”
Libia looked up with her hurt eyes at the italian-looking man behind the counter. His gruff voice was grim, and his mouth was pressed into a thin line. He planned on hunting down that little j£rk-off and ma-king him pay every scent.
“Oh, no I couldn’t-” Her shaky, almost sobbing reply was cut off.
“Don’t you dare pu-ll out that money, Darlin’.” This time it was a woman’s voice.
Libia looked behind the man to find a petite, rounded woman with fiery red hair and ha-rd green eyes. Her nametag said Jan.
Libia sniffled. “Thank you.”
“Do you nee-d us to call someone? Or at least a cab to get you home?”
Libia shook her head. “I’ll be okay. M-my house is just a few blocks from here.”
The two watched the dejected girl walk from the restaurant, head down, l!pbetween her teeth. Everyone in the parlor was watching, in fact.
“Crete, get that kid’s picture posted up on the wall. I can’t wait to kick him out next time he comes.” Jan said to her husband.
“Done and done.” He replied.
Libia began running as soon as the door shut behind her, her eyes blurry with tears. She only got a few feet before she rammed into a ha-rd b©dy. Arms wra-pped around her w@!st to keep her from falling, and the guy stumbled back a bit.
“I-I’m sorry.” Libia sobbe-d.
“Whoa, whoa. Libia, what happened?” She almost instantly recognized the voice.
“D-Damon?” She asked, looking up with watery eyes.
Sure enough, those familiar blue eyes were looking down at her with questions flooding them, his eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah. What happened?” He repeated.
Libia pu-ll-ed away from Damon, wra-pping her arms around herself. “He ditched me!” She cried.
He raised his eyebrows, having never seen her so out of sorts. “What? What are you talking-”
“I was on a d@t£ with Johnson The-Heart Breaker! He got a pizza, we ate it, and then he left! He ditched me. I had ten dollars in my wallet, Damon. Ten fv¢king dollars! He danced with me, he asked me what flowers I liked…he fv¢king k!$$£d me! And then…and then…” Libia felt her eyes well up again. “And then he got in his car with Bailey Summers and drove away.”
Damon saw red. “He k!$$£d you.”
Libia looked up at him, almost unable to see him throu-gh her tears. It was a good thing, too. In their close proximity, Libia probably would have turned to ash un-der his rage-filled gaze.
“Yes. He k!$$£d me.”
Damon clenched his fists and took de-ep breaths, getting his jealousy un-der control before he had to rip Johnson a new one. This was his plan, was it not? To get Johnson to scre-w up, and then move in. But damn it was ha-rd to do.
“Damn sweet-talking moron. ‘Brown. Chocolate brown. With little specs of gold.’ My as-s!” She ranted.
Damon could feel his anger subsiding, and surprise taking it’s place. He’d never heard her curse before. It was surprisingly S-xy. He’d never even heard her raise her voice as much as she had.
Damon decided it was time to l@yhis offer on the table. “Gee, Johnson’s a real as-s, isn’t he?” He hedged.
Libia nodded, crossing her arms indignantly. “Not only an as-s. An as-s-hole!”
“I bet you’d like to get back at him good, wouldn’t you?” Damon inched his way towards her.
She was too caught up in her anger and her hurt, glaring angrily at nothing in p@rticular as she crossed her arms. “Got that right. I’m going to kick his as-s to Memphis.” Libia growled.
Suddenly, Damon gr@bb£d her up. She let out a cry in surprise, and suddenly she was flush against Damon’s che-st.
His h0t breath hit her face, as his blue eyes bored into hers. “How about something along the lines of showing him what he missed?” Damon suggested.
She swallowed thickly, suddenly the quiet girl he met in school. “W-what?”
“Change, Libia. Become someone that Johnson will drool over. Let him know what he missed out on. Be a bad girl.” Damon rumbled, the sound of his voice reverberating throu-gh her che-st.
“A-a bad girl?” She repeated dumbly.
“No more stuttering. No more innocent looks, no more avoiding people. Wear your uniform like you’re a model and the school is your cat walk. Put on a smile that says ‘fv¢k you, world.’ Be who I know you are. Who I know you really are.” Damon muttered.
“H-how?” Libia whispered, staring up at him with wi-de eyes.
A slow grin spre-ad across his face. “I’ll show you, Babe.”
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Tbc