If there was one person that was under the impression that I wasn't going to eventually be the reason Damon died a slow, miserable death, they were wrong. It didn't come as a surprise in the least that it had been him I almost hit. I'd been almost killing Damon since second grade.

I sat in the car for a little over ten minutes, pressing my forehead against the steering wheel as I tried to push my embarrassment and guilt down into the pit of my stomach.

How was I supposed to walk into the place after almost hitting Damon. . . again?

I don't know what kind of sick, warped game Fate is playing with us, but it gets more and more out of hand every time I see him.

If it were up to my head and not my heart, I would have sped out of the parking lot seconds after it happened. Being the nice person I am, I couldn't leave Ryder hanging like that. I knew I wasn't too important to him, but he had personally invited me and I felt as if it would be a slap in the face if I disappeared on him.

Cursing quietly, I forced myself out of the car and headed for the building. There was a couple a few years older than me standing outside smoking, sharing a long, dark look as if one of them had just been caught cheating. Maneuvering my way through them, I was lost in a crowd of people stepping inside. This just happened to be one of the few times I was happy that Ryder was unusually tall and I could see him over everyone else at the bar.

He was pushing a water bottle back and forth between his hands, deep in a conversation with one of the jocks I'd seen him with after school. I approached hesitantly, feeling the sudden need to disinfect my body after pushing through so many people.

"Damn, Thomas! You clean up nice." Ryder complimented, dropping his arm over my shoulder and hugging me against his side.

"So you're saying I don't look nice all the time?" I feigned hurt. "Wow, Ryder. I didn't know you were one of those guys. Way to boost a girl's confidence."

Both of the boys laughed, easing my anxiety. Once he regained his composure, Ryder nudged my shoulder gently.

"Today is someone's birthday, you know." he whispered.

I raised an eyebrow. "Happy Birthday?"

"Not mine, sweetheart. But thanks." he winked. "I think you'll get it after a few tries."

I could feel the other boys dark eyes on me as I thought quietly to myself, and to say it was an uncomfortable feeling would be an understatement. I had always heard people say they got bad vibes by just being around someone, but I hadn't ever felt them until now.

"I'll give you a hint." he leaned forward with a smirk. "You have the ability to almost kill him whenever he's within a fifty feet of you."

Today was Damon's birthday?

"He doesn't seem like much of a party guy." I answered.

"He's not." the jock outstretched his hand. "I'm Tyler."

Shooting Ryder a quick look, I took the boy's hand. "Micky."

Clearing my throat, I leaned back against the bar and let my eyes scour the crowd for the man of the night. He was nowhere to be seen and I really couldn't blame him. If Rachel ever did anything like this for me, I would lose it and hide under my blankets the entire time. Wherever he disappeared off too, I'm sure would be to his benefit.

"Want anything to drink?" Ryder asked.

I shook my head. "I'm fine, thanks."

As if he'd been summoned by our thoughts, Damon pushed through crowds of people until he reached us, immediately grasping my forearm. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I was invited." I made a gesture toward Ryder.

Ryder glared at his best friend. "Come on, bro. She didn't do anything wrong, she's pretty chill too. Stop being such a dick."

Damon's eyes fell back on me. "You need to leave."

"You need to stop being such an ass." Ryder snapped.

I opened my mouth to intervene before a fight broke out, but Damon was a step ahead of me. "Was I talking to you?"

"No, but you're treating a chick like shit. You expect me to stand around and watch you do it?" Ryder retorted angrily. I shook Damon's hand off, sighing.

"I was invited, Damon. I'm not going to leave because you tell me to." I stated.

His face twisted into a grimace. "I'm not telling you anything, McKenzie. I'm warning you."

"Warning me?" I frowned. "Is that a threat?"

He didn't respond. The thought of prying my keys from my fingers came as a better response. He started toward the exit of the bar, leading me through the same crowd of people I'd been through five minutes ago. I caight his wrist outside the building, ready to slap him.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Give me my keys!"

He shook his head. "Why can't you just stay away?"

"Excuse me? I was invited to-"

"It's like you can't get it through your thick head, Thomas. I want you to stay away from me. Do you understand?" he said through his teeth.

I pushed him. He stumbled back in surprise.

"You think I want to be around you, Fox? You're wrong. I hate you. I hate everything you stand for, who you are. I hate that you can't even see what you have in life and appreciate it! I hate it!" I shouted, pushing him again.

His tough exterior slowly began to crumble.

"I never wanted to befriend you in the God Damn first place! You were the one that stole my diary and threatened to post it. You were the creep that followed me out to the field. That was all you!" I pressed my finger into his chest. "You keep saying I can't stay away, but you need to face the facts. It's you that can't stay away from me! You can't accept the fact I don't bow down to you like the rest of the female population. You despise the fact that someone doesn't like you."

He finally started to regain his courage as I threw insults right back in his face.

"You pretend to be this perfect little princess, McKenzie. You aren't the good girl you make everyone believe you are." he took my shoulders in his hands and physically shook me. "You crave the attention you've been lacking for years. You tell yourself you hate my attention, but any is better than none, right?"

I started to talk, but he forced a hand over my mouth. "You're right, Thomas. We're like a pair of magnets that keep being forced together. When we try to pull away, it's like our poles become the same and we collapse. I hate that I like my life a little better when I'm around you, trust me. But you've got to be the stronger person here and stay the hell away from me."

I stopped squirming in his grip. "I don't crave your attention, Damon. If anything, I want to slap you in the face with a chair most of the time."

A genuine laugh escaped him at the response.

"I'm sure you do. I'm sure everyone does, McKenzie." he averted his eyes.

"What are you running away from, Damon?" I grabbed at his wrist until he turned back to me. "If it's your family, maybe you shouldn't treat everyone around you like shit. It isn't going to help anything."

"It's not family issues." he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes fluttering shut. "It's not anything you could even begin to comprehend, McKenzie. It's better that way too."

"You sell drugs!" I guessed, snapping.

He rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the vicious stereotype, sweetheart. But it's not that."

"Why are you so afraid to let people in?" I whispered.

He narrowed his eyes. "Why are you?"

I dropped my head and smiled weakly.

"You know the answer to that as well as I do, Damon. It's written all over that diary."

"Maybe it is." he shrugged. "But I'd rather hear it out of your mouth."

I threw my hands up in exasperation. "You don't understand what its like to wake up in the same house that burnt to the ground four years ago, knowing you should have went down with it. You don't feel the guilt of knowing that your brother dying was entirely your fault and you should have been the one that went up in flames. Is that what you want to hear, Damon? I killed Brady. I have nightmares every night. I know I'll never be socially accepted in this town."

He buried his right hand in his hair and huffed out a sigh. "I understand more than you think."

"You lost your brother in a fire that you should have died in?" I questioned. "Because the last time I checked he was the CEO for some crappy computer company."

Damon brushed his fingers under my jaw, color draining from his face.

"You have the guilt of knowing you should have died instead of your brother, and that is something you'll live with the rest of your life, I'm not saying it isn't a shitty feeling." he rested his forehead against mine. "I have to live with knowing I could have saved someone and all I did was sit and listen, not even making the slightest attempt to save them."

***AN***

*Unedited*

Hope you guys enjoyed! 

Why do you think Damon was insisting Micky left? What do you think happened to him? Do you believe they have more in common than they think? And, of course, is anyone excited to hear more of Damon's story?

Let me know what you think/thought!

~ChasingMadness24