The one thing - scratch that - the one person who gets under my skin the most is Damien Carter. His smug, overconfident attitude and that infuriatingly charming smile of his, especially the smile. It's deceptive. Handsome, yes, but utterly misleading. It drives me crazy.
To put it plainly, Damien Carter is annoying. No ifs, ands, or buts. He's the kind of jerk who basks in the glow of attention, eating up all the admiration he gets for being ridiculously good-looking. People call him "The Ladies' Man." I call him insufferable.
Today, as I watched Damien shamelessly flirt with Amanda and some other girl whose name escapes me, I noticed the way his eyes glimmered with amusement. He was enjoying it - raising their hopes only to crush them later. What's so funny about toying with women's emotions? Maybe if I were a guy, I'd understand the appeal. But I'm not. End of story.
Still, I couldn't entirely blame him. Those girls knew what they were getting into. He's never going to date them. Sure, he might hook up with them, but commit? Never. Everyone knows Damien Carter doesn't do relationships. Yet they still throw themselves at him like moths to a flame, ignoring the inevitable heartbreak that follows.
To be fair, I don't think it's entirely their fault either. They're victims of something I've dubbed "The Damien Syndrome." Don't ask me how I came up with that; I just did. But what bothers me the most is not that these girls fall for him - it's that my best friend, Sarah, has become one of his latest admirers.
I don't get it. What's so special about Damien Carter that everyone seems to see, but I don't? And my best friend of all people thinks he's "nice" and "cute." Nice and cute? Seriously? I might vomit.
"You know," Sarah said as she slid into the chair beside me, "with the way you're glaring at Damien, if looks could kill, he'd be six feet under by now."
I scoffed, not bothering to look at her. My eyes remained fixed on Damien, who was now laughing at something one of the girls said. "Would it be so bad if he were?" I muttered.
"Yes, it would," Sarah replied without missing a beat.
Right. Of course. I didn't actually want him dead. But the fact that I despise Damien doesn't mean I wouldn't enjoy the occasional fantasy about him being knocked down a peg or two.
"And if I didn't know you better," Sarah continued, "I'd think you're into him. But you're definitely not."
I didn't hear the rest of her words because I suddenly started coughing uncontrollably.
"Are you okay?" Sarah asked, leaning over to pat my back.
The coughing subsided, but I was too irritated to respond. How could she even think that I might be attracted to Damien? That's absurd. Sure, he's good-looking, but he's the epitome of everything I can't stand in a man.
"Are you okay?" a voice asked, and even before I looked up, I knew who it was.
Speak of the devil.
There he stood - Damien Carter - with that billion-dollar smile and just the faintest hint of concern etched on his annoyingly perfect face.
I glared at him. "Do I look okay to you?"
Sarah pinched my shoulder, probably as a warning to behave, but I shrugged her off.
"She's fine, Damien. Thanks," Sarah said quickly, answering for me.
"Well, I'm glad you're okay," Damien replied, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. He turned to walk away but threw a parting shot over his shoulder. "And maybe if you weren't staring at me so much, that wouldn't have happened."
What?!
I felt my blood boil as I clenched my fists. "What's so funny?" I snapped at Sarah, who was now trying (and failing) to suppress her laughter.
"Nothing," she said, her face scrunched up as she stifled a giggle.
Whatever.
But wait. How did Damien even know I was glaring at him unless he was looking at me first? Was Damien Carter staring at me? Not that I care, but still...
