Shipwrecked

A week passed and Davey had completely moved in. Claudia promised to stop by every so often to check on him, to which he seemed annoyed. I couldn't blame him though. What seventeen year old kid wanted to be constantly checked on anyway? I know that I sure didn't wanna be bothered at that age and I still didn't.

Even though he had been with us for a whole week, I still didn't know much about the young blackette. I worked during the day at the local bookstore and I didn't get to talk to him much in the few hours our schedule overlapped due to the fact that he was always holed up in his room and I never wanted to be a bother. I didn't know what he did in there however, I did know that teenage years spiked a males sexual drive and as much as I wished I could devour the brown-skinned beauty, I didn't need to walk in on his alone time.

But being that it was currently the weekend and I was off, I invited Davey out for lunch with me. He seemed eager to come with me so I assumed that I hadn't made a big enough twat out of myself yet. Apparently I hadn't acted creepy enough to scare him away and I honestly couldn't decipher if that was a good or bad thing.

As we waited for our food I decided that I might be worth it to try and get to know the boy. "So, Davey, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly is your ethnicity?" I was curious to know how he got such a unique look, his features not quite hinting at Spanish or black, though I knew I couldn't rule them out because no one race ever looked the same.

He laughed. "I actually get that question a lot and I was wondering when you would ask. I'm white, black, and middle eastern. My father is white and my mother is a mix of black and Arabian."

I nodded, gazing at him intently. "That would explain why you have such beautiful skin," I blurted without care and he giggled in return.

"Thank you. A fan of the dark meat, eh?"

I blushed and silently agreed. Davien wasn't exactly dark or light as far as complexion was concerned. His coloring was unique, light but bordering brown while at the same time, it was not. His skin looked soft and inviting and I briefly wondered what it might be like to touch that glowing skin. Overall, Davey was right, though. I typically liked guys darker than myself. Something about the difference and contrast in skin colors turning me on indescribably.

"I'll take your responding silence as a 'yes' and say that you're in luck, because I happen to have a thing for honey-eyed white men who have a hair color that's straddling the border between ginger and auburn."

I laughed in return, shaking my head. "You're quite the forward one, aren't you?"

"Well, my mother always said honesty was the best policy."

He flashed me a wicked smile as the server came back to the table and delivered our food. I just shook my head again. The boy was snippy, witty comebacks never failing him. I was actually delighted in that, though I was of the shyer variety. I could never up and expose the fact that I really wanted to devour him, but I took a sense of pride in knowing that he wasn't opposed to the idea in the slightest.

We ate in silence for the rest of the time. There was a small disagreement over who would pay the bill, and of course I won. After we paid and left, we drove back to the house. I had no plans for the day except trying to turn a new picture I had taken of Markus' mom into a painting.

I was setting up my paint and sketching supplies in my room when there was a knock at the door. "Come in!" I yelled, continuing about my business.

"Colt?" Davien asked, walking into the room.

"Yeah?" I questioned, inwardly squealing at the cute boy.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Just setting up some paints and stuff. I got a really nice picture of Jodie in the garden the other and I really want to paint it for her," I answered.

"Jodie? Who's Jodie?"

I laughed. "Markus' mom. Her name is Jodie."

"Oh," he giggled, full lips parting wide. I stared at him for a moment, watching his pretty form as he walked over to my bed and sat down. "Do you mind if I watch? I'm kind of bored. And it's lonely in my room."

I shrugged. "Of course not. Watching me paint is sort of boring though. So feel free to talk all you want, or watch the television or something."

As soon as I heard the television come on, I set to work sketching out the photo before I painted it onto the paper. Hours passed like that, with me painting and Davey sitting quiet and pretty on the bed as he watched whatever show was on. It was calming, really. I enjoyed Davey's presence a lot and I only hoped that as the weeks went by, I would be spending more and more time with him.

++++++++++

It was just half past eight when I finished my painting. I had every intention of asking Davey if he wanted to look at my work and give some commentary when I saw him sprawled across my bed on his stomach, eyes closed and mouth agape as he snored quietly. It was a glorious sight to behold. The boy was gorgeous when he slept, when he was awake and I'm sure, though God forbid, that he would even look gorgeous in death.

I looked him over one last time, before turning on my heel and heading for the door, but just as I went to open it, I heard a whimper. Looking back at the boy, I saw that his face had scrunched up like he was in pain and he had flipped onto his back. I didn't think much of it until his head tossed itself to the side and he whimpered again a strangled 'no' coming past his lips.

The whimpers came steady after that and I jogged over to wake him, but just as I went to shake him, he jolted upwards, beautiful brown eyes wide and scared. He lunged toward me, grabbing ahold of my shoulders and pulling me close. I didn't know what to do so I wrapped my arms around him too, holding him. It was only when I felt a drop of wetness on my neck that I realized he was crying.

"Davey, Davey, it's okay. You're safe," I murmured, sitting on the bed to allow him more comfort.

He eagerly crawled into my lap, sobs racking his tiny frame as he buried his face deeper into my neck and shoulder. My heart broke for him and yet I was still confused. I wanted to ease his pain but I also wanted to know what he dreamt that could have been so horrible to make him act this way.

"Don't let them get me," he whispered, clinging to me harder.

I didn't know what he meant, but still found myself promising that I would allow anyone to come after him. That was the first time I ever noticed a flaw in Davien. He was scared of something, or someone. I just wish that I had known, then, what exactly it was that he was afraid of.