PREVIEW: Don’t Stay

When romance has turned into abhorrence.

Don’t Stay is perhaps the darkest, most triggering, and most convoluted novel I have written, albeit I tend to gain enough audacity to write this. The intention of this novel is to bring awareness to domestic violence and abusive relationships.

The main themes are:

Toxic Relationships and Abuse: The story centers on the main character’s abusive relationship with her boyfriend, examining the dynamics of how relationships can turn harmful and traumatic.

Fear and Isolation: The main character’s struggle with being afraid to leave her abusive boyfriend and her fear of being alone, which keeps her trapped with no escape.

Unrequited Love: The main character’s earlier heartbreak discovering her childhood best friend, who happens to be the love of her life, belonged to someone else.

Self-Worth and Empowerment: The central query of whether the main character will find the strength to break free from her toxic and abusive romance.

Love and Dependency: Contrasting healthy love with destructive attachment.

Don’t Stay is a contemporary romance novel that tackles the convoluted subject of recognizing and escaping abusive relationships.

This novel of mines can change the audience’s perspectives of helping those who are victims of domestic violence and trapped in abusive relationships, hence the imperativeness of reporting these kinds of issues in order to save victims of such violent romantic abhorrence. It may be difficult to interfere with these types of relationships, albeit lives are more worth it rather than perceiving someone get acutely injured… or worse.

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Preview

There she is. The one who has been my best friend since we were children. I never knew I’d be in love with her until now. She has her luscious blonde hair, fair skin, hazel eyes, and a figure that fits a supermodel. She’s so beautiful. Sadly, she doesn’t return my feelings. I know that because—she’s with someone.

Vanessa Castle and I have been friends since we were in first grade. We know each other by heart: we know each other’s favorite colors, our favorite different hobbies. Since she was a child, she has done martial arts, and I read books higher than anyone else. She’s the cheerleader, and I’m the goth. Yet, despite our differences, we still love one another. She would always be there for me. That’s what I love about her.

She didn’t need to tell me that she didn’t return my feelings. I can tell by reading her mind. Plus, I can tell by how she makes physical contact with a girl.

She’s sitting at a café table opposite her. Vanessa told me the other day that her name is Louise Paige. I became heartbroken when she told me she was dating her. I knew right away that it was a sign. I can see it. The way she’s making eye contact with her and they’re holding hands over the table. I’ve never been this heartbroken.

As soon as I got my signature soy latte, I instantaneously left the coffee shop, not bothering to look at Vanessa and her new girlfriend.

I had drunk my soy latte by the time I got home. My throat burned as I drank it, though I was strong enough to ignore the scorching touch in my mouth. I entered my apartment’s kitchen and threw the empty cup into the trash. I change my clothes before entering the bathroom: a black tank top with purple sleep shorts. I open the cabinet in the bathroom, and I take out a clean, unused razor blade.

All of this heartbreak is breaking and killing me on the inside. Grasping the razor blade in between my forefinger and thumb, I take it to my forearm. My forearms are coated with previous cuts due to my depression. This happens all the time whenever I’m in distress and pain. It’s the only way to ease it all away for me.

When the blade touches my delicate skin, I ensure it is deep enough, so I can feel the chilling sensation and bleed simultaneously. It’s a good feeling for me. I watch the blood run and drip into the porcelain sink as I cut. I never bothered covering my self-inflicted wounds with gauze or bandages, not even antibiotics. I let them bleed and little longer and feel the sensation until it fades away. I drop the razor blade into the sink to save it for later when I’m done. Afterward, I go into my bedroom. I lay in bed so that I could cry in my sleep.

Vanessa and I met when we were in elementary school. I was the new girl with nothing but a book in her arms. So, when Mrs. Shields, our first-grade teacher, introduced me to the class, I felt nothing but instant loneliness.

“Class,” Mrs. Shields told the class. “We have a new student joining us today. Please welcome Gwen.”

When the class said their salutations to me, I became reticent. I didn’t answer back. When I went to take my seat, I could hear the entire classroom whispering about me. I still remember it. They were talking a lot of negative shit about me.

At lunchtime that same day, I sat alone at the table, reading the books I had brought from home. I wanted to escape, and reading was the most satisfying hobby I’ve ever had. I didn’t want to play with anyone in school. Why? Because they all remind me of those abusive students I’ve dealt with at my old school. That’s why I had to move and change schools. It’s what my dads wanted. They wanted my sister, Vivianne, and me in the same safe environment. My peers teased, abused, and bullied me because I was different from everyone else and because our two dads raised Vivianne and me. They called us the twin daughters of two homos, which broke our hearts. Vivianne and I love our two dads, Sam and Roger, despite the discrimination we went through.

I was entirely ambivalent about reading, sitting, and eating lunch all by myself on that day. There were no distractions for me, and I liked it that way. But, at the same time, it was depressing because I couldn’t get the memories of my tortured past away from me. Also, being lonely sucks ass.

Suddenly, she came along.

“Hello.” I looked up from the book I was reading to see young six-year-old Vanessa. She was as adorable at that time.

“Hi,” I answered coyly.

“I’m Vanessa. What’s your name?”

“Gwendolyn. But I go by Gwen for short.”

“Nice to meet you.” She goes to sit next to me. “I thought I’d sit with you. You look so lonely. I hope you don’t mind.”

I was about to tell her I minded, but she was too cute to deny it. “No, I don’t mind.”

There, we begin to have our first conversation together. Of course, we had so much to tell each other. But that was also the first time I felt something different about Vanessa. Unlike in a good way.

It got better in middle school when our bond became more robust. When we were sitting alone at one of the empty lunch tables, Vanessa defended me from a group of popular girls when they were making fun of my emo appearance, and that Vanessa was hanging out with an emo girl. Vanessa was also there for me when I fell in the middle of the classroom when someone tripped me, and the entire class laughed at me. The teacher didn’t save me—but Vanessa did. And how can I forget the time when she gave me tissues to cry on when a group of girls harassed me just for listening to rock and heavy metal music? Vanessa saw me crying in the girls’ bathroom, and she decided to comfort me instead of going to her homeroom class, risking detention for me. And when I got my first period in the middle of class, Vanessa took me to one of the nearest bathrooms, gave me one of her spare pads, and then showed me how to use a tampon.

This is what I love about her. Vanessa would do anything for me. I really mean anything.

Sadly, we had to be separated in high school when we got accepted to different schools. I was left heartbroken. The school was never the same without Vanessa around me. I was so depressed. I ended up cutting myself to ease the pain. Sure, we got to see each other by phone, but it was never the same. Vanessa and I said our goodbyes when we entered high school, and we didn’t see each other in person until we finished college. And yes, we went to different colleges. College was very depressing when I still didn’t have Vanessa with me, so I continued to self-injure myself and began drinking.

I ended up on a college course hungover because of my pain without Vanessa. I ended up in rehab and months, or maybe years, of therapy. Vanessa meant a lot to me. Without her, I am fucking nothing.

Finally, when I saw her at Starbucks, she was going through her phone and drinking a cup of cappuccino, her favorite. It was a miracle. I approached her, and she had never been so happy to see me again at our little reunion.

All naturally beautiful without any makeup and her hair in wavy curls, I couldn’t be in more love with Vanessa Castle.

Now that she’s in love with Louise Paige when she introduced me to her, I’m back to being heartbroken and depressed. So, it’s back to cutting myself and alcohol for me.

X

I couldn’t stop crying over my heartbreak about Vanessa after seeing her. It’s 8:00 pm, and I decided to hit the bar where I usually go. I wanted to drink my sorrows away.

At the Disappearing Glass, the bar I go to whenever I get depressed—as always—the bartender of the place I know is serving me every cocktail I order. I ordered two Pina Coladas, two Mai Tais, one daiquiri, and one mojito. So, after drinking them one after the other, I slam the last now-empty glass against the bar table.

“Derek!” I slur, “Another Pina Colada!”

Derek comes to me, wiping one of the beer glasses with a rag. He is in his early thirties with fair skin and brown hair gelled into a faux hawk. He tells me, “Don’t you think you’ve had enough, Gwen?”

I hiccup with heartache, “I’ll tell you when I have enough. Now, give me another Pina Colada.”

Derek shrugs, “Suit yourself. If you get alcohol poisoning, don’t come crying to me.” There, he goes to make an ice-cold cocktail for me.

Derek and I have gone way back ever since I turned twenty-one. Sure, he can be an asshole, but at least he understands my pain. I give him big tips because of that. Derek could be the one for me if he weren’t gay. I still love him, though, as a friend, of course.

“You really should lay off those cocktails.” A gravelly male voice told me. I look to my side to see who is talking to me.

It’s a man I had never met before. His dark skin and shaggy, curly black hair go well with his lovely complexion. He’s sitting on the barstool adjacent to me, facing away from the bar with his legs crossed and smoking a cigarette. I get sick by the smell of smoke coming from his mouth. He inhales and then exhales the tobacco smoke.

I turn away from him, not wanting him to see my depressed face. I tell him, “Get lost. I’ll drink myself to death whenever I want to.”

The mysterious man turns around on the barstool to face the bar, still holding his cigarette between his fingers. He lets out another blow. He continues to look at me while I have my head down, staring at the bar table.

He asks, “Does someone break you up?” I nod weakly. “Well, don’t worry. That asshole got nothing on you.”

Derek comes, giving me my cocktail. I thank him before he goes to do his job.

“Hey, Derek!” The man calls out to him; apparently, he knows Derek, too. “Give me a bottle of bourbon!”

“You got it, Damien!” Derek calls out. He comes back, giving Damien his drink before departing again.

I take a big sip of my cocktail. I continue my conversation with the man. “That asshole you were talking about happens to be my best friend whom I suddenly fell in love with… and is a woman.”

Damien takes a swig of his bourbon. He takes the bottle down on the table. He asks, “Are you a dyke?”

I sip my Pina Colada again, “I don’t know. I don’t know what I am.”

“What’s your name?”

“Gwendolyn Jing, but everyone calls me Gwen for short.”

“I’m Damien. Damien Luke.” He smiles as he gives me his hand for me to shake. I did so.

“Nice to meet you,” I answer. Although, I’m still feeling depressed, even if she is good-looking.

Damien inhales his cigarette before dipping it onto the ashtray to suffocate the flame. Next, he drinks his alcoholic beverage. Then, he asks, “Are you interested in guys? Just asking.”

I make eye contact with him as I finish up my drink. “Maybe.”

Damien pulls out a pen and a napkin from the bar table. He writes something down on the napkin before handing it to me. Then, he tells me, “Just in case you’re interested.”

I look down at the napkin he gave me. He wrote down his name, address, and phone number on it. I make another eye contact with Damien with a weak smile. He winks and returns the smile to me. I tell him, “Thanks, I’ll call you.”

Damien finishes his bourbon and then pays Derek his bill. As Damien leaves, I watch Derek take the empty glass bottle into the recycling bin behind the bar. Derek makes eye contact with me as he wipes the table with a different rag.

“Don’t you want to call it a night, Gwen?” Derek asks me. “You look intoxicated enough.”

“I don’t care. I’m staying until closing time. Another mojito, please.” I tell him.

Derek turns around, “If you say so.” And then he brings me a glass of the cocktail I requested.

X

When the bar closed, I decided to make a rendezvous with Damien Luke, even though we had just met. As I stand in front of the Disappearing Glass, I take out the written napkin Damien wrote to me. According to his address, he’s not that far away at all. Just one block away. Talk about a small world, even though it is vast here in Manhattan, New York.

Despite being intoxicated, I made it there. I momentarily stared at his front door, wondering if I was making the right decision. I knock, thinking that this might be right for me. I’ve never had a one-night stand before; I want to eliminate my heartbreak by experimenting. I waited for him to answer, and he did. Once his door opened, I could see his handsome face. He smiles at me.

“Would you like to come in?” Damien offers.

“Sure,” I answer.

I walk into his apartment, making my way into his main room. I look around for a minute. Everything looks like a typical bachelor pad, complete with a flat-screen tv and a futon. The whole place seems messy and run-down. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Damien living in this place. All it matters is that at least he’s happy and comfortable.

I walk to the futon to take a seat. Damien comes into the living room, and he sits next to me. He’s wearing nothing but his wife-beater and boxer shorts that give out his entire muscular body. I couldn’t help but feel aroused by him. Damien’s face is so close to me. The next thing I knew…

He’s kissing me on the lips.

We are now making out; it started as slow and gentle to something more vigorous. Our tongues are attached. Then, we broke apart for air.

Damien then brings his lips to my neck. I moan at the feeling. He begins to suck and bite down my neck. I kept moaning in ecstasy at the surface of his teeth, digging into my delicate skin. Suddenly, I feel something down there. He picks up his head to make eye contact with me.

“Let’s get this on, shall we, baby?” Damien seductively asks me. I say yes because I cannot deny it.

Damien picks me up, and he takes me to his bedroom. He kicks the door and lays be down on his mattress. I watch him strip off his boxers and then his wife-beater, leaving himself naked in front of me. My face turns red when I continue to look at him.

He gets on top of me on the bed, and we continue to make out more vigorously, all while Damien strips my clothes off before dropping them on the floor. After he removed my panties, I became naked underneath his touch. We broke off the kiss, so Damien could take a good look at me being entirely bare.

“You look so sexy, babe,” Damien whispers, sending chills down my spine.

This is where and when I lost my virginity to a man who was a stranger to me. It was rough and painful, and I actually bled a little when he inserted himself inside me, but I liked it.

I may feel more pain than pleasure, but at least I have my broken glass healed and my missing puzzle pieces found.

X

The following day, I woke up. As I sit up, my head hurts, and I feel dizzy. Right away, I knew that I am having one of my hangovers. I have Damien’s sheets covering my torso. I see that almost familiar olive-skinned man asleep next to me from last night. While looking at the sleeping Damien, I think, “What have I gotten myself into?” I just lost my virginity to a man I hardly know. I can still feel the soreness between my legs. When I examine my womanhood, I think of some of his semen inside me.

I look at the time on Damien’s digital clock on his nightstand. It’s already past 10:00 am. I better get home and feed my cat, Chloe; my feline companion must be worried about me, and she’s waiting for her food. Without waking Damien up, I kiss him on the cheek. I watch him mumble in his sleep. I get up from the bed, drop the covers, and quietly put on my clothes. The soreness between my legs interfered with me as I put on my underwear, though I managed to get everything on without hesitation.

Before I left his apartment, I went into the kitchen. I see a whiteboard attached to the refrigerator. I grab the dry-erase marker magnetically attached to the fridge and write down my name and phone number. I placed the cap back on before putting the marker on the refrigerator next to the whiteboard.

Making sure I have everything—purse, keys, wallet, phone, etc.—I make my way out of the apartment. I turn on the GPS app on my phone to help me find my way back to my place without allowing my hangover to interfere with me. I kept throwing up in the middle of the street several times while walking. There’s no stopping there. I must keep going no matter how ill I feel. My vision went into a fleeting blur. I didn’t realize until now that I had bumped into someone.

“You okay?” Her voice is so familiar. I look up with a clear vision.

It’s Vanessa. I couldn’t be any more embarrassed to have her see me hungover in public.

“Vanessa,” I say to her. “Hi.” My heart is beating rapidly. “How are you?”

“Great! Thanks for asking,” Vanessa answers with a smile. Through my blurred vision, she couldn’t be any more beautiful. I smile back at her. “I’m just on my way to see Louise.”

My smile disappears into a frown. “Louise?”

Vanessa nods, “Yeah, you remember her, right?”

At that moment, Louise Paige appears out of nowhere, at least, that’s what I thought. She walks next to Vanessa.

“Hey, babe.” Louise gives Vanessa a hug and a kiss on the lips, which Vanessa reciprocates. I feel my heartbreak again at the sight of the couple. I try not to cry.

“Louise, hon,” Vanessa tells her, holding both of her hands. “It’s so good to see you.” She looks at me and then back at Louise. “Louise, you remember Gwen? My best friend since childhood.”

“Yeah,” Louise answers, and then she looks at me, flicking the bangs of her brunette pixie cuts. “How are you today, Gwen?”

I remain silent. The last thing I want is to punch Louise in front of Vanessa for no reason or for stealing Vanessa away from me. I hardly know her, but I abhor her already. I remain silent.

“You okay, Gwen?” Vanessa asks me with concern.

Louise notices my silence. “Dude,” she has her arm around Vanessa’s shoulders, sending more jealousy within me. “Is something wrong with you, chink? You look kind of drunk to me.” Vanessa gently let Louise’s arm off her shoulders and then lightly slapped her on the upper arm. “What, babe?”

Vanessa tells her, “Don’t be an asshole, Lou. This is my best friend you’re talking about.” She looks at me again. “Sorry about that. Now, are you feeling alright, honey?”

I have had enough of this conversation because I cannot stand seeing Vanessa with Louise. I want to leave them. “Sorry, you two. I have to get back home. I have to take care of my cat.”

Just when Vanessa is about to ask me something—probably asking if Chloe is okay since she likes her—I storm off to my place. And as I leave, I could have sworn Vanessa and her bitch girlfriend are watching me. So without turning back around, I continue to stumble my way to my apartment.

I returned to my apartment without causing any public intoxication from my hangover. When I got home, I first filled up Chloe’s food bowl and gave her more water in her separate bowl. When she hears me opening the wet food pack, Chloe, my calico cat, immediately shows up to eat. I stroke her head while she’s eating. As soon as I fed Chloe, I went into my bedroom to change into my pajamas, so I could spend the rest of the day sleeping off the fucking hangover. Once I changed into a tank top and sleep shorts, I hop right into bed.

The first half-hour is harrowing for me to sleep, no matter how seemingly empty my thoughts are. The only thing that came into my mind is Vanessa. Since we ran into each other just now, she’s all I could think about, and I just can’t stop. But, somehow, thinking about her gave me an idea.

I go through my bedside drawer, rummaging through for something. Finally, I take out a printed six-by-four photo of Vanessa from when we went to the beach to celebrate her day when she came out of the closet as a lesbian. She wore a black bikini that revealed her beautiful supermodel figure in the photo. I set it next to me on the bed. I continue to stare at the picture of Vanessa while lying down on my side. Then, out of instinct, I pleasure myself while thinking of Vanessa.

After hitting my sweet spot, I feel more tired. I finally went to sleep as I dreamed of myself and Vanessa together.

X

I woke up with a jolt. I look to my bedside, realizing what suddenly caused me to wake up. It’s my phone. Groggy, though feeling a little better from my hangover, I reach for it. I lazily stare at the screen. I have a text message. I click on the message notification, taking me to my message app. I read it. It’s from Damien.

That was the best night I’ve ever had. You really look good for someone who drinks a lot. I miss you already. -Damien

Then I received another text from him.

Let’s meet again. I’d like to see you.

Then then, he sent me a heart emoji.

I lay my phone face-down, still holding it, on the bed. I begin to think about it. Damien Luke. Olive skin, raven hair, so built and muscular. Just thinking about him makes me feel attracted to him. Maybe he’s the one for me. If I say yes, I’d be happy and free from my pain and misery from Vanessa and Louise. But—am I truly in love with him? What if I made the biggest mistake of dating a man if I’m genuinely in love with the woman I’ve know since we were six?

After careful consideration, I replied.

Yes, I’d like to see you soon. Love, Gwen.

I hit send. I wait for him to reply.

It’s only been a minute until I see a little notification that his message appears.

Great! How about tonight?

Tonight? That seems too soon. What if…

Already knowing that I don’t have any plans for tonight, I impetuously reply.

Yes.

And the conversation continues. Damien messaged me where he would like to meet, and I mentioned this Asian vegan restaurant I love to go to whenever I don’t feel like cooking. It’s called Tasty Plants. He seemed skeptical at first when I told him I’m vegan, though, after giving him time to think about it, it’s apparent that he doesn’t mind my dietary restriction.

We both ended the text with “see you there.”

Until 5:00 pm, I spent the rest of the day reading a novel and playing with Chloe. I tell her I have finally met someone and will have dinner with him tonight. She purrs as she affectionately rubs herself against me. I take that as her saying, “good for you.” I wasn’t sure what to wear for the date, so I played around with my clothes in my walk-in closet. I decided on a purple long-sleeved top with exposed shoulders and a pair of skinny black jeans. Finally, I chose my purple platform heels to match. I gaze at the tall mirror attached to the closet door.

“What do you think?” I ask Chloe, sitting in a loaf position on the end of my bed. She responds with the tip of her tail tapping against my comforter. I smile, “You’re right. This is perfect.”

I take my time to put on some eye makeup. I went with black and purple smokey eyes, a little mascara, and cat-eyed eyeliner. I don’t have any lipstick because I had always hated lipstick ever since Vivianne and I did our first makeup when we were thirteen. Finally, I add a modest amount of natural-colored blush to my cheeks. When I’m done, I take one good look in the mirror. I look okay. Not too much, just the way I like it. I then put away my makeup into its organizer. I fix the straps of my heels before getting my black shoulder bag.

I look inside my purse to see if I have everything, a habit I tend to have every time I leave my apartment. Once I got everything that I needed, I left my bedroom. I tell my cat, “See you later, Chloe.” I made my way to the door, and I left my apartment.

Tasty Plants is about a few blocks away from my place. By the time I got there, I was waiting for Damien to show up outside the restaurant. I play around with my phone by scrolling through Twitter to pass the time. I don’t have any games in there; I never download mobile games since it’s a waste of battery life, and I hate how being too addicted to games can rot your brain. So instead of playing games, I’d randomly hit like on pictures of cats I follow on Twitter.

“Hello, there.” I look up from my phone when I heard his vaguely familiar voice. It’s him.

I put my phone away, “Hey, Damien.”

He gives me a quick kiss on my lips. Damien lets out a crooked smile. “It’s so good to see you, Gwen.”

“It’s good to see you, too. Shall we get inside?” He nods.

We enter Tasty Plants. The smell of plant-based food flows in the air and is so decadent. After picking our table, Damien and I sit opposite one another.

“So, this is where you eat?” Damien asks me.

I nod. “Yeah, the food here is amazing. It’s healthy and safe for the animals. That’s what I love about it.”

“How long have you been vegan?”

“When I turned twenty. I’ve always wanted to become vegan ever since. I was a vegetarian during my teen years. I did it because I love animals and knowing how they were oppressed in slaughter farms just broke my heart.”

Damien takes my information in with a nod. “Do you have any pets?”

“I have a cat. Her name is Chloe. I adopted her when she was a kitten. Now, she’s five years old. I’ve been treating her like she’s my baby.”

He chuckles. “That’s cute.”

Suddenly, our waiter shows up. His name is Andrew. As he waits, we skim through the menu for drinks. We ordered two glasses of plum wine. Andrew departs to get our drinks, which gives us time to choose the food we’d like to eat. We decided on scallion pancakes as our appetizers, I went with sliced deep-fried shiitake mushrooms with spicy barbecue sauce and kale, and Damien went with a General Tso tofu. Andrew shows up again, setting our plum wine on the table, and he takes our orders. He departs again, taking the menus with him.

Once we were alone at our table, Damien and I bring up a conversation.

Damien trails off, “So…”

I ask, “So, what?”

“Are you into guys and girls?”

I take a sip of my wine, “I guess. I couldn’t help but think that this may be hereditary.”

He sips his wine. “What do you mean?”

“My twin sister, Vivianne, and I were born to a surrogate mom. Our two dads raised us.”

“Two dads?” I nod. “How does that work?”

I told him, “My dads combine their sperm with a donated egg, and once the embryo is formed, it gets inserted into our surrogate’s uterus, and she becomes pregnant with us.”

Damien seems impressed. “Interesting.”

“Yeah, I may have gotten my attraction to the same sex from either one of my fathers. Vivianne is the straight twin, which makes me the gay or bi twin. It’s actually not that uncommon for twins to have different sexualities, identical or fraternal.”

“Which kind are you?”

“We’re fraternal twins. People say we look identical, but we’re from two separate placentas, so we’re fraternal. Also, if they looked carefully, Vivianne is about an inch taller than me, we have vaguely different eye colors, and my hair is darker than hers. But, our dads told us that we were the most beautiful twins they had ever seen when we were born.”

“What are your dads’ names?”

“Sam Russell and Roger Jing. They didn’t get married until New York legalized gay marriage. So Vivianne and I are happier to see our dads finally get married. We’re finally a whole complete family.”

“Don’t you get bummed out that you don’t have a mom? You know, a female role model?”

I shake my head. “Sometimes. But our surrogate mom, Lana, would take care of us whenever Daddy Sam and Daddy Roger were at work or out of town. She’s more of our babysitter than a mom to us. So Vivianne and I are both happy with two dads and no mom.”

Damien takes it all in. I sip my wine again. Finally, I ask, “What about you?”

Damien sighs, “I grew up with old-fashioned parents. Growing up, I never get along with my mom or dad, but I don’t want to talk about it. By the time I turned eighteen, I had left them and never saw them again. Got a stable job, fed myself, you know it.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“Only child.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. Where do you work?”

Damien is silent. “I’d rather keep it a secret.”

I was curious when he told me that. I wanted to know, but he wouldn’t tell me. So finally, I told him, “I’m a writer.”

“You are?”

“Yeah, I write for a living. I wrote articles, blogs, and anything that came to me. I’m not famous yet, but that’s not my criteria. However, I may want to write a novel or a memoir someday.”

“What do you write about?”

I shrug, “Mostly LGBT-related. What it’s like to have same-sex parents. My personal experiences with experimenting with the same sex. Something like that.”

Damien smiles, circling his finger around the rim of the wine glass. “That’s cool.”

Our conversation ends when our food shows up. Andrew sets our orders on the table in front of us. We talk more about ourselves throughout the rest of the dinner as we eat.”

At the end, when our food is done and the check is paid by splitting, Damien decides to walk me home to my apartment since it’s late. We continue to talk more during our stroll until we make it to the front door of my apartment. Damien and I make eye contact under the moonlight.

I smile at him, “I had fun tonight.”

Damien returns his smile, “Me, too. We should meet up again someday.”

“Yeah, I—”

Suddenly, Damien grabs my wrist to pull me into a kiss. His kiss is forced. Despite that, I kiss him back. The kiss turns out to be passionate. After about five seconds, we break off. We make eye contact. The stare is long, but even under the moonlight, he looks gorgeous. Damien still has my wrist tightly gripped into his fist. “See you around.”

I stammer inaudibly because the grip on my wrist is hurting me. “See you. Goodnight.”

He lets go of my wrist and tells me goodnight as well. Then, he faces a different direction to depart to his place.

As I watch him leave and fade away for the night, I rub the pain he just gave me when he was holding my wrist. I looked down, and I could feel some marks coming in.

Somehow, this could be a mistake to date Damien Luke—or not.

End of Preview