Drowning in desires

[Music recommendation: The Hills by The Weeknd]The moon cast its silvery glow over the pool, its ripples shimmering like liquid stars. Zendaya leaned back slightly, her heartbeat quickening as Damon's presence grew more magnetic. He was too close, his gaze too intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move away.

She gave a hesitant nod, barely comprehending the gravity of her silent agreement. Damon didn't wait for a second chance. In an instant, his lips crashed against hers, demanding and unyielding. The kiss was raw, consuming, a fusion of want and frustration that left her gasping for breath.

His hands roamed her back, tracing the delicate curve of her spine before settling firmly on her hips. He pulled her closer, his fingers pressing into her skin with an urgency that made her dizzy. A soft moan escaped her lips, involuntary but undeniable, fueling the fire burning between them.

But then reality clawed its way back to her. She broke the kiss, her breath hitching as she whispered, "Damon… What about your mom?"

He smirked, his confidence unwavering. "Don't worry. She probably got the hint." His tone was casual, almost teasing, but his eyes burned with something far deeper.

Before she could respond, he silenced her again, capturing her lips with a ferocity that left her defenseless. This time, his kiss wasn't just a claim; it was an exploration, a demand for more.

"You taste heavenly, Zee," he murmured against her lips, his voice husky and filled with longing.

Her heart stuttered, his words threading a dangerous warmth through her. But he didn't give her time to think. His hands moved with an urgency that left her trembling. One slipped beneath her bra, the heat of his palm searing against her skin, while the other brushed the lace of her bra, eliciting a sharp gasp.

A low, throaty sound escaped him, and his grip tightened. When he lifted her effortlessly, settling her on the edge of the pool, the cool water against her legs did nothing to dampen the heat between them. His lips trailed down her jawline to her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

She should've stopped him. She knew that. But her body betrayed her, responding to his every touch, every whispered word.

It wasn't until his hand slipped to her thigh, his fingers grazing the edge of forbidden territory, that her senses returned like a jolt of cold water. She pulled away abruptly, her chest heaving.

"What's wrong?" Damon asked, his voice low, tinged with worry. His hands hovered, unsure whether to hold on or let go.

"We can't do this," she whispered, sliding off the pool's edge. The distance between them felt like a chasm, but she needed it—needed to think.

His brows furrowed, frustration flickering across his face. "Why not? Zee, what are you so afraid of?"

Her throat tightened, the words lodging painfully in her chest. Because you don't care. Not really. This is just a game to you and I can't afford to lose myself —not again.

"I've got to go," she said, grabbing her clothes and walking away. Her steps were hurried, uneven, as if she were running from something she didn't dare face.

Damon stayed frozen, his chest heaving as her silhouette disappeared into the night. His fists clenched at his sides, and he raked a hand through his damp hair, the weight of her absence sinking in.

"Damn it, Zendaya," he muttered under his breath, glancing down at the throbbing reminder of her effect on him. He let out a frustrated hiss, shaking his head.

For a moment, he considered going after her. His body screamed to follow, to demand answers, to prove she couldn't just walk away like this. But something in her eyes had stopped him—a flicker of fear, or maybe self-preservation. She needed space.

Still, the ache in his chest didn't subside, nor did the burning question in his mind: Why does she always push me away when all I want is her?

He let out a bitter laugh, leaning back against the cool tiles of the poolside. "Look what she's done to me," he murmured, the words heavy with both longing and frustration.

---

The classroom buzzed faintly with the low hum of a lesson Damon wasn't paying attention to. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, striping his desk with slanted beams of gold. He leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, the other tapping a pencil rhythmically against the edge of the desk. His usual cocky demeanor was absent, replaced by a tension that coiled in his chest and refused to let go.

His mind wasn't here. It was still at the pool—still with her.

Zendaya's face swam into his thoughts unbidden, her lips trembling beneath his, her body pressed against him, soft and warm. Damon closed his eyes for a second, biting the inside of his cheek. The memory of last night felt like a brand, burning him in places he couldn't reach.

The pencil snapped in his hand, the sound startling a few classmates. A sharp curse slipped from his lips, drawing a fleeting glance from the teacher. Damon didn't care. His jaw clenched as he tossed the broken pencil onto his desk.

His eyes drifted across the room, searching—and landing on her.

Zendaya sat a few rows ahead, her head tilted down as she scribbled something in her notebook. Her long lashes cast shadows on her cheeks, and her lips curved slightly in a soft, absent smile. She looked so peaceful, so damn unaffected.

Damon's stomach twisted. How could she sit there, so calm, when he was unraveling?

His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palms. Every movement she made—the flick of her pen, the way her hair caught the light—drew his gaze like a magnet. His chest tightened as memories of her scent, her voice, her moans haunted him.

Get it together Damon. She's just a girl.

But even as the thought formed, he knew it was a lie. Zendaya wasn't just a girl. She was a storm—one he hadn't seen coming and didn't know how to weather.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly as if holding on to his last shred of sanity. His leg bounced restlessly beneath the desk. He tried to focus on anything else, but his thoughts circled back to the way her body had felt against his, the way her eyes had looked when she pulled away.

Why her?

Damon dragged a hand through his hair, his frustration mounting with every passing second. Last night, he'd hit his breaking point. The ache she'd left behind had driven him to a place he rarely went—a place where he'd had to take matters into his own hands.

Even that hadn't been enough. The memory of her was too vivid, too intoxicating.

The bell rang, pulling him back to the present. Zendaya straightened in her seat, gathering her things with deliberate movements. Damon's eyes stayed on her, watching for some sign—anything—to suggest she'd been thinking about him too.

But she didn't look back. Not once.

His chest tightened, a mix of anger and longing swirling inside him. He needed answers, needed to understand why she was the only one who made him feel this way.

Tonight.

The word echoed in his mind like a lifeline. There was a party tonight—a chance to escape the chaos she'd stirred within him. He'd drink, laugh, and lose himself in the crowd. Maybe even find someone else to occupy his thoughts.

As Zendaya disappeared through the classroom door, Damon leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips—a mask for the storm inside him.

You've got me all messed up, Zee. But not for long.

Or so he hoped.