16: Call me
*Jasmine*
Damon followed behind me, took his seat and was shortly served by Hannah after I motioned for her to take his order. I was not in the mood for anymore "pleasant" conversation with him.
"Do you like him?" Macy asked curiously as she began chopping up a few pieces of fruit and placing them carefully into a bowl. I did a double take before answering in the negative.
"Why not? He's a good guy. Cold sometimes, but good."
"I think you and I are talking about two different people." I said, unable to believe that anyone in the world could call Damon Michaels a "good guy".
Macy smirked, and then turned around quickly. Her hands were covered in red juices of berries she'd been handling, and I could see a few tendrils of her blonde hair in her face ,asking her look frighteningly like a murderer. "So, when you said you two were old friends you didn't mean that literally."
I shook my head no, seeing that I could clearly no longer lie to her and told her that I actually held a deep dislike for him.
"That's understandable. He was never easy to get along with, but he has gotten worse over the years. Colder, more aggressive. I think things would have been different if he'd had a better childhood, because when we were kids, he was nothing short of an angel, aggressive, but an angel."
My ears perked up at the mention of his childhood and I questioned her on what she meant. She refused to tell me and instead, turned back to the fruit she was busy cutting up. I made no further attempt to question her. She seemed to respect Damon enough not to tell me something as personal as that. It had me wondering once again if I actually did know the real Damon Michaels.
"The hot guy says he'll take−"
"A bowl of fruit, flapjacks and syrup and a cup of coffee−"
"Black, no sugar and a dash of cinnamon for a good, strong aroma."
It seemed we were all cutting each other off: Macy cutting Hannah off, and me cutting Macy off.
"You sure you don't like him, Quinn?" Macy questioned curiously as she got out some flapjack mix from the fridge and began stirring it up and pouring it into the pan.
"I could ask you the same. The only thing I seem to actually know about him is how he likes his coffee."
Hannah was once again tasked with serving Damon, by me, and brought him his food with a flirty smile. When I looked over at the two, I was mortified to see him actually laugh, smile and lean in to whisper something in her ear. As he did that, he gave me a sideway glance and smirked. He was petty, and unfortunately what he did was having an effect on me as my claws began to elongate and I could feel my fangs do the same in my mouth.
*Breathe Jasmine, breathe right now before you do something you will regret*. I kept on trying to calm down and eventually resorted to digging my claws into the flesh of my palms which caused blood to trickle from them and onto the ground. He was playing dirty, and I did not like that one bit.
"Um ma'am, you're bleeding. Are you okay?" One of the customers to my right said, breaking my train of thought. I said nothing to the woman but went to go to fetch the mop and got to cleaning up the small blood droplets on the floor.
When Damon asked Hannah for the bill−which I heard curtesy of my werewolf hearing−I stopped her, insisting that I would take it to him.
"But I don't mind taking it."
"Do you want to continue living and breathing or...?"
She handed me the bill and the card machine with an eyeroll.
"Where's the pretty waitress who was previously serving me?" Damon asked when I had made my way to his table. His eyes glinted with mischief which reflected even in his small smirk and his hand was placed under his chin, cupping his face. I was hating this new attitude of his more and more. In fact, I preferred the emotionless version of Damon to this one who was becoming sassier and sassier with every passing second.
"You're not cute, you know that right?" I said handing the bill to him. He took out his card and then took the card machine from me.
"I know I'm not cute. Sexy seems to fit my description though, don’t you think?"
*Someone was clearly suffering from a severe case of narcissism.*
After he'd handed me the bill, he also handed me a piece of paper, which, when asked what it was for, he refused to answer and left wordlessly. I took a look at it and after a second’s glance crumpled the note, which read:
**017 566 9208−Your mate**
This surprise visit from Damon was turning out to be way worse than I ever could have imagined... and it was only day 1 of him actually being around.
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