Sabrina Carpenter- Why

Shawn Mendes- Imagination

Damien's picture ^

Damien's POV

The knock on my door distracts me from watching The Flash. I roll my eyes and open the door.

"What?" I snap before realizing that Hope is standing in front of me. "Sorry I thought-"

She walks past me. "You white people love opening the door for anyone, huh?"

I let out a surprised laugh. "Okay, smartass. How'd you escape?"

She turns, a smile brightening her face. "I didn't. I was able to convince my dad to get over it."

"Really?" I smirk, pulling her by her hand towards me. She spins excitedly before resting her hand on my neck.

"Yep! We're having dinner tomorrow night."

I frown. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, why? You have plans?"

I take a strand of her curls and twirl it around my finger. "No, it's just too soon."

She gives me a weird look. "We've been dating for 7 months, what do you mean too soon? Is..." She starts to say, grinning at me. "Damien McIntire scared? You are full of surprises."

"I'm not scared! I just don't want your dad to hate me."

"If you keep your mouth shut, you'll be fine." She smiles cheekily. I flick my finger against her forehead. "Ow!"

"I don't have anything to wear."

"Just wear your usual shirt and jeans. Be yourself, it'll be fine."

"Sure..."

"He's not that bad. Once you get to know him. He's a nice guy."

"Hard to think that a man who have access to nuclear codes could be called nice."

"Touché. Anyways, I can't stay long. I'm still grounded. I only came to tell you that. And..." She takes her hand into mine and swings it back and forth, excitement written on her face. "We're going to Martha's Vineyard together. Well I didn't tell my dad yet, but you have to come."

"Really?" I smirk. "Where will I be sleeping?"

She bites her lip, smiling knowingly.

"You're telling me," I say, tracing my fingers up her arm and down her body. "We're going to be alone in a room? Just us two?" I drop my voice to a whisper. "The things I'm going to do to you."

She sucks in a breath and I draw her in to kiss her. I move her back until it hits the wall but she seems unfazed. She fists her hand in my hair and moan against my mouth as I trace the curve of her breasts. Her lips part even wider and she pulls my neck in. I take the opportunity to pull back, my lips inches away from hers. She's staring at me in a daze and panting.

"What?"

"Nothing." She frowns and leans her lips towards me but I pull back, my hands still teasing her body.

"What are you doing?" She asks breathlessly.

I shake my head and lean in only to pull back before her lip touches mine.

"Damien!" She says, clearly frustrated.

"I'm protecting myself," I answer proudly. I finally stop my hand from trailing lower down her body.

"What?"

"I'm not tryna get blue-balled."

She rolls her eyes. "You're gonna get blue-balled by kissing me?"

"You don't know what you're doing to me, woman!" I protest.

She crossed her arms. "You're just doing this on purpose."

I lean in and kiss her cheek. "Maybe. See you at dinner."

Hope scowls before slamming my door. I chuckle.

This is going to be fun.

***

It is raining heavily by the time I turn into the intersection of 14th Street and Pennsylvania Avenue. I turn left, towards the east entrance of the White House. My breath gives way as I stare out the rain-streaked window. Pictures serve no justice. It's the most beautiful house my eyes have ever landed on and it is then that a surreal feeling washes over me. My girlfriend is the First Daughter of the United States. It's not a sentence you hear everyday.

I roll to a stop as a heavily armed guard and a man in a black suit equipped with an umbrella step in front of my car. I am instructed to unlock the trunk while I am searched with a metal detector.

"Drive to the south entrance," The guard says as he motions to a general direction. When I stop, I am greeted by a man in black with an umbrella. He asks me to follow him and I obey under the protection from the rain. He leads me towards a large door and into an elevator at the hall. We wait in silence as the elevator ascends and eventually opens into a room.

My heart skips a beat as the President of the United States flashes a nod and shakes my hand with a firm grip as soon as I step out of the elevator. The president is dressed in a gray suit with the presidential seal on its breast.

He wastes no time in formalities. "I'll give you a tour while we wait for the ladies." I nod, my mouth unable to move. "Would you like a beer?" He asks. I nod again. He turns and shouts to a butler to hand him two beers. I can't help but stare at him. It's such an odd situation, and an odd time. The president literally forced his daughter to break up with me and three days later, I'm having a beer with him.

Before I know it, I have a Heineken in hand and we begin an unscheduled tour of the White House. It was more fun than I thought. He bluntly informed that he wasn't going to show me all the boring architectures and the rooms. He proceeds to guide me through the swimming pool, the Bowling Alley, the Game Room, the Workout Room, the Family Theatre, and the Solarium. I didn't know if it felt more like like I was in a museum or MTV Cribs.

When the quick tour is finished, he leans against the wall of the Solarium with crossed arms and regards me with narrowed eyes. "I don't like you."

My eyebrows raise in surprise at his sudden bluntness. "Uh..."

"Why did you ask my daughter out?"

"Because... I liked her," I answered lamely.

His head tilts sideways. "You didn't know her, though. And your intentions weren't in a good place, were they?"

"Not at first," I state honestly. "But I changed my mind after I got to know her."

"Mhmm."

"I'll never hurt your daughter, sir." I swallow as he continues to judge me with his eyes. He's about to speak when, thankfully, The First Lady enters. Her eyes immediately spots me and she beams.

"Hope told me so much about you. It's so nice to finally meet you." Without warning, she hugs me before grabbing my shoulders and regards me like a son she haven't seen in years. I can't help but smile back at her.

"Likewise, Mrs. Madison," I say and actually mean it.

"Please, call me Makayla." She turns to her husband and kisses his cheek. "Dinner's ready." I follow them to the dining room. It's a huge room with a long table. Everything is decorated in soft colors and the chandelier rests comfortably above the table in the center. Hope, wearing a white dress that looks amazing on her, is talking to a man in a black suit. Her eyes brighten when she sees me and she grins. I return it, resisting the urge to kiss her under the president's watchful gaze. She frowns at my distance and all I have to do is shift my gaze to him before she smiles knowingly. I'm pretty sure her dad has caught the whole exchange, but he doesn't comment on it.

Before long, two young chefs comes out with salad, cooked eggs, cooked yams, fried chicken, and something called gumbo, which Hope's dad insisted be placed on the menu ("even though my mom makes it best"). I carefully eye Hope sitting next to me as she places salad on her plate. She pauses before looking shyly at me with a discreet smile, and places half of the portion back into the bowl before adding meat on her plate. I smile at her proudly and she ducks her head and giggles.

I look up, about to place some of the gumbo stuff on my plate, to see Hope's parents' eyes glued to us. Her mom is smiling with a glint in her eye as she glances between us, but her dad holds no expression on his face. I feel heat rush up my neck. I had forgotten they was sitting directly across from us.

I spoon the gumbo thing in my mouth, surprised by the burst of flavors. "Good right?" Her dad asks. I nod eagerly and spoon some more into my mouth.

"So, I have some questions," The President informs, taking a bite of his chicken.

"Sure," I say, unsure.

"How come you don't have a job?" I pause with the food halfway to my mouth and look up at him. I place the spoon back down.

"Dad!" Hope protests.

"I don't need it," I answer. Not that I haven't tried. Getting a job with a record is nearly impossible, especially around my neighborhood.

"What do you on your spare time?"

I'm fully aware by "spare time" he means "all your time." I know he's done a background check on me, so there was no point in trying to lie or make me look good.

"I just hang out..." I pretend to be casual about it but his eyes says he can see past the bullshit.

"Smoking and partying, huh? So tell me, how can you afford your house?" Hope clears her throat and glares at her dad.

"I'm sure you know the answer to that." I grit my teeth and meet his gaze. If he's trying to humiliate me in front of Hope, I won't allow it.

"You're right. I do. What I really want to know is how'd you afford a necklace like that." He nods towards Hope, his eyes set on her neck.

"I have a savings account," I bristle. "Which you would know if you did a thorough background check."

He laughs flatly. "I was wondering when you was going to show that tough side of you." There's silence for a complete ten seconds before he continues. "You claim you love my daughter."

"I do." I feel Hope's hand intertwine in mine under the table. I squeeze it gratefully.

"Do you see yourself with her in the future?"

"Yes," I answer without hesitation, surprising Hope and I both.

He cocks his head. "In the future, whose money do you plan on living off of? How are you going to take care of Hope if you can't even-"

"Dad!" I know without looking that she's glaring daggers at him.

"Just having light conversation, gumdrop. No harm." He breaks his gaze to continue eating his food.

Silence reigns around the table as we eat. Hope finally clears her throat, severing the tension. She sets her spoon down, gesturing to the president.

"Dad, why don't you talk about sports stuff or something?" Smooth, Hope. I would've made fun of her attempt if I wasn't placed in such an awkward situation.

"Alright." Hope's dad places his fork down. He rubs his hands together, leans forward, and narrows his eyes. "What sports do you like?" His voice holds suspicion.

"Mostly basketball," I say automatically, holding his gaze.

"Favorite team?"

"Celtics."

"Player."

"Kyrie." I lean back in my seat, ready to defend myself.

"Hmm."

"Yours."

"Between Lebron and Leonard."

I scoff. "Lebron's everyone favorite."

"With good reason."

"Lebron is always traveling but the refs wanna turn a blind eye. His stats ain't accurate."

"He doesn't travel." He tries to defend.

"I saw it with my own eyes! You're just saying that 'cuz you've got your head far up his..." He raises an eyebrow and his wife holds her spoon in midair. I clear my throat. "Anyway, Kyrie's hands down the smoothest player you'll ever see. He has better handles and dribbles, he-"

"His defense isn't great and his team could make it to the playoffs without him."

"You've got it all wrong-" We launch into a very heated debate about who's a better player, in terms of stats. And like all basketball-related debates, the conversation ends up nowhere. None of our minds are changed, the only difference is that we were more passionate about the subject than we were 15 minutes ago.

As soon as the president clears his plate, the butlers retrieves the dishes and quickly clears the table. Luckily I had emptied my plate.

"Would you like desert?" The first lady asks.

"Yes, M... Makayla." It feels weird calling the First Lady that, as if we haven't met almost an hour ago.

"You still play?" President Madison asks. Apparently he had given up on the debate since I'm not budging from my stance.

"No. I haven't played in a long time. I doubt I can play anymore," I admit. I ignore the pang in my chest.

"Come on, I know you had a scholarship for it. I'm sure you've still got it."

"I don't know..." I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

He crosses his arms, leans back, and for the first time tonight, he gives me an actual smile. "Why don't we take it to the courts?"

I frown. "You have a basketball court in here?"

"We have a tiny one that no one uses, sure. But I turned the Music Room into an actual one."

I raise my eyebrows. "Are you allowed to do that?"

I let out a small laugh. "I'm the leader of the free world. Of course I am."

I sit back, impressed and contemplating. Ever since I've lost the scholarship, I haven't picked up a ball. I was too angry, too spiteful, to even play with a straight head anyway. Without realizing, I had sworn off playing. The thought of actually playing again, and with the freaking president of the United States, seems scarier than it actually should be.

A man in a black suit walks up to the president and gives him a phone. The president excuses himself and the chefs walk over with red velvet cake. I eagerly dig in.

"We was definitely third wheeling, weren't we?" Hope wonders out loud. I blink in surprise. I had forgotten her presence.

Makayla nods. "Definitely."

"Sorry," I mumble.

"No, it's good. I want you to be on good terms with my dad."

"Yeah," Makayla agrees. "He hated you."

"Thanks..."

"That is a beautiful necklace, by the way," Makayla remarks, gesturing toward Hope's neck.

"Thank you."

Hope places her hand on my shoulder. "He doesn't look romantic, but he can be sweet sometimes."

I scoff and narrow my eyes at her. "Sometimes?"

"Yeah, sometimes." If Makayla wasn't here, I would make a comment about how not sweet I can be, but I choose to spare her the embarrassment.

Madison walks in and immediately starts eating the cake. "So Hope is basically forcing me to take you along to Martha's Vineyard. You interested?"

I grin at him mockingly. "Are you... Are you actually inviting me?" The thought of the president who hated me an hour ago is now personally inviting me to his vacation is somehow funny to me. But what can I say, I'm a likable person.

"Don't push it."

"Fine. Yeah I'll go... if it's fine with you." I openly smirk at him as he rolls his eyes.

"Whatever. I'm inviting you."

"There you go." I would pat him in the back if there weren't any secret service around.

After desert, Hope's dad drags me to the courts, much to Hope's dismay. When I enter, I am surprised by its size. It's huge, with basketball rims on each end. There's a rack against the wall holding basketballs. I couldn't figure out why on Earth he needed so many.

"Does this place get much use?" I ask.

"Sure. Since I've taken office, we've already had 3 college basketball championships that happened at this place. Even the Wounded Warriors played here once."

"Hmm," I say, impressed.

"So," Madison says, picking up a ball from the rack. "How come you stop playing?"

"I just... gave up, I guess." This is something I definitely don't want to talk about. But I can't bring myself to stop him.

"You could've chased your dreams another way, kid."

"Yeah, I guess." I don't even want to think about a 'what could have been.' There's no point in dwelling in the past. "I guess it's easier to watch someone follow their dreams than standing up and following your own."

He nods. "Well said." He turns towards the rack and that's when I notice the small boom box. He grins and turns it on, hip hop pouring through the speakers.

He start bobbing his head and snapping his fingers. "You wouldn't know about this shit, boy." I intentionally cover my eyes as he starts dancing to the beat. "When I was a kid, we used to march around the block dancing to this."

He starts dancing with the basketball. "You don't do this in front of your wife, do you?" I accuse.

The president only laughs. He places the ball down and removes his suit, neatly placing it on the rack. He dribbles the ball towards me, managing to keep up with the beat at the same time. I crouch down nervously. I definitely don't want to look like a fool in front of him. I want to impress him, whether I can admit that out loud or not.

He easily crosses me and I turn around and face him, embarrassed. "You gonna let an old man cross you like that, boy? Come on." He starts dribbling between his legs.

Show off.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins, and my competitive spirit kicks in.

He dribbles the ball between his hands, his eyes trained on me. I crouch low and attempt to grab the ball. But he's quick as he maneuvers around me and storms down the court. He easily makes a layup. "You gotta keep up, boy!"

A slow song comes and he starts singing along and shaking his hips. I cringe as he continues to tease me. "I'll forfeit if you keep dancing like that."

He chuckles and checks the ball to me. I bounce it back, the ball feeling foreign in my hands. He begins to dribble and I crouch again, inching closer to him. As soon as the ball bounces on the floor, I catch it as it starts to ascend back to his hand. I dribble the ball and shoot from the three pointer, but it bounces off the rim and he catches it and performs another layup.

"You'll get the hang of it." He encourages, but I'm sure he's teasing.

"Whatever." My hearts starts to beat faster as I check the ball. My instincts kick in and I grab the ball away from him, barreling down his side of the court and aiming for the backboard. It bounces off before entering the hole.

"Whoop!" I yell excitedly. I can't lie, the feeling is great. I catch a movement from the corner of my eyes and I turn to see Hope and her mom, watching us by the door.

I smile and wink at her. "Break his ankles!" She yells. I laugh.

"I'm still winning so you might want to relax."

I shrug. "2-1."

"Game is 10," He offers.

The next fifteen minutes are spent in hard breathing, sweat, and adrenaline. The longer the ball is in my hands, the more familiar it is, the more my body takes over. Before long, I surpassed him, showing off old tricks I have long engrained as muscle memory. I can't help but feel elated as Hope cheers me on. I'm not as good as I once was, but I'm definitely better than I thought I'd be.

Hope's dad runs to me and I stand behind the three point line and aim for the backboard.

"This is for you," I say, winking at Hope. She clasps her hands excitedly.

Before Madison can reach me, I shoot for the hole. I relish in the sight as the ball swooshes in without sound.

"Airball!" I boast. The score is now 6-10, me in the lead. Madison applauses me with a genuine smile.

"Told you you still got it." He pats me on the back." Hope and her mom approaches us.

"You're not so bad yourself." I look at Hope, feeling the familiar sensation I feel whenever I see her. I take her hand in mine. "Now if you'll excuse me..."

Madison chuckles and nods towards the door. Hope leads me out. "Where are we going?" I ask.

"You'll see." We walk straight down the hallway and through double doors, leading to a balcony. I whistle, impressed. The sky glows a soft deep blue, periodically broken by clouds. The sun would set in less than an hour and the world would again be covered in darkness. Down below, was the huge lawn with a fountain below. It looked surreal. Almost like a painting.

"Not bad."

"This is the Truman Balcony." Hope informs. "Beautiful view, right?"

I turn to her and tuck a strand behind her ear. "Right," I say pointedly, staring into her eyes.

She giggles and hit my chest. "You're so cheesy." I laugh at that. "Being without you is like being under a night without stars, right?" She whispers, echoing the inscription on her necklace.

I smile at her. "I love my necklace on you. Makes you look sexy." I grab her waist and pull her closer to me.

"You know what else is sexy? You playing basketball."

I cup her chin and push it upwards, meeting my lips. She wraps her arm around my neck and slithers her tongue into my mouth. I quickly pull away when it's about to escalate.

"What?" She frowns.

"I already told you." I put some distance between us by sitting on the couch. She stands between my legs and rolls her eyes.

"You're being dramatic. What, you expect me to have sex with you on this balcony?"

I grin at her and place my hand on the inner side of her thigh. "That sounds like a great idea." She eyes my hand and slowly moves it away before sitting on my lap.

I shake my head when she leans in. "Nope."

She groans in frustration and I can't help but laugh. "You can't force me."

"Of course I won't. That's why I'm giving you a choice." I grin maniacally.

"That's not much of one."

"Oh well." I shrug.

She rolls her eyes again and sits down next to me. "What was that back there?"

"I've always been good," I boast. "You just never seen it."

She laughs. "That's not what I'm talking about. You said you can see us in the future."

"Yeah..." I trailed off.

"How far into the future?"

"I don't know. I guess I've never really thought about it. I try not to plan too far ahead."

She cocks her head, her hair falling down her shoulders and framing her face. "Why not?"

"Well, I did that before and look where I ended up," I say bitterly. Playing basketball was thrilling, but it also brought back painful memories and repressed resentment. I can still remember my mom receiving the call that I had lost my scholarship. She broke the news during Thanksgiving with my family the day after they'd witness me score the winning shot at the championships. They never asked me about school again.

Hope places her hand on mine but doesn't say anything. I wrap an arm around her and reel her in.

"I'm sorry about what my dad said earlier."

"It's fine."

"No seriously. It was insensitive. I don't have an excuse for it."

"He doesn't like me but I get it. I'm probably not the poster boyfriend of any parent's daughter."

"Don't think like that. I love you and I don't care about any of the stuff he was saying. You know that right?"

I intertwine my fingers with hers. "I do now." I kiss her fingers.

"You think we'll grow old together?" She asks.

I frown in thought. "Sure, unless we kill each other first."

She laughs. "That seems more likely. Do you see us with kids?"

"Kids?" I echo, my voice shrill.

She looks at me. "You don't want kids." She states.

"Nope." I shake my head violently. "Can you imagine me being a father?"

She shrugs and shakes her head. "I can't imagine being a mother, either.

My brows raise in surprise. "Really?" Well that was a conversation that I never thought would go as smoothly as it did.

Her eyes look distant as she looks out at the sky. "Ever since my cousin died... I just can't imagine losing someone you gave birth to. The thought seems scary. I've seen what it did to her parents and I don't think I can ever go through that. So I wouldn't risk it."

I nod. We sit in silence, my arm wrapped around her and her head on my shoulder, as we watch the sky slowly descend into darkness. The view becomes more serene and beautiful under the small stars above and the streetlights below.

"Question," I say, breaking the silence.

"Mhm?"

"Where will I be sleeping at the Vineyard?"

She raises her head and playfully nudges me with her shoulder. "I told you. We can sleep together."

"In what way?" I smirk.

"Guess we'll have to see," She replies with a coy smirk of her own.

"Really?" My interest is peaked.

She smiles coyly before placing her head back on my shoulder. I chuckle. I lean back against the couch, feeling lethargic.

I hear a knock, startling me awake. I haven't realized I was sleeping. I open my eyes to see Hope and I laying down on the seat, our bodies pressed against each other and my arm around her. She gets up at the same time and my face flushes as soon as I see her parents standing by the doorway.

Mrs. Madison is standing there grinning like a madwoman and the president looks slightly amused. "We were wondering where you two sneaked off to," She says.

Hope gets up and looks at me and I can tell she's blushing as much as I am despite the dim lighting.

"I... I should, uh, get going," I stammer.

"You can stay if you want, it's pretty dark out." Mrs. Madison offers. "We can prepare the guest room."

"It's fine," I say quickly. "Thank you." No need to make this situation more awkward.

We make our way downstairs and her parents greet me before heading back inside.

"Bye, baby," Hope grins before planting a kiss on my lips. I can't help myself as I pull her in and kiss her deeper. We pull away when we're out of breath, and it is then that I look up to see secret agents staring at us.

"Do you get any privacy in here?" I wonder out loud.

Hope stifles a laugh. I wink at her and exit, making my way back home to my limited space and tasteless decor.

*****
This chapter is dedicated to @pparbie for commenting and for letting me know the real name of Damien (Manu Rios)! Now I've got a lot of pictures of him to post in chapters lol (he's so hot!).

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