PRESENT DAY
“I’m sorry… but I have to ask… do you also go by Damon?”
Fuck, she recognizes me.
I’m the master at playing games. It’s a skill I learned from her. This game started the minute she gave me a fake name and then left me in a hotel room after the best night of my life. A night that I haven’t been able to forget.
But what is wrong with this woman and splashing drinks on people?
She’s drawing attention to us fast. It doesn’t look good that the host of the party is throwing drinks on people. God, this is a blog-worthy story, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see myself on TV tomorrow or, worse still—on every social media platform I open.
She notices people staring at us, curiosity and judgment plastered on their faces, so she grabs my hand and pulls me out into the hall. Her touch does something to me. It’s sensual, electrifying, and it took me seventeen years to feel it again. But her anger confuses me. She has no reason to be angry at me—she’s the one who left.