Last Birthday of Peace.
1291 Words
(Elara’s POV)
By the time my final lecture ended, I was exhausted, but not from the course load.
I should’ve been thinking about my upcoming coding project or debugging the AI model we were tasked with optimizing. After all, I was a software engineering major and not some lovesick girl waiting for a man’s attention.
But none of that mattered.
Because Damon Blackwood was still in my head.
The man I’d known my whole life. My father’s best friend. The one I wasn’t supposed to think about, let alone dream about.
But I had. Again.
I packed up my laptop slowly as I thought about how my birthday dinner tonight was going to be. I already had the perfect dress that was going to catch Damon’s eyes and if I’m lucky enough, I could get a sinful kiss after.
“Hey Elara. I got a notification from Snapchat today saying it was your birthday. Happy Birthday Elara,” Agnes said as she pulled me into a hug.
“Thank you so much,” I replied with a smile.
Agnes was one of the members of my coding group. A real smart girl and an overachiever, my kind of girl.
She broke the hug and smiled back at me before saying a quick goodbye as she headed to the library.
I walked towards the car park where Paul was waiting for me and slipped into the back seat.
My phone buzzed and I reached for it as Camilla’s name flashed on the screen.
Camila: Get ready, Miss Future Zuckerberg. We’re celebrating like bad girls tonight.
Me: It’s a dinner, not Vegas.
Camila: Please. With that dress and that man in the room? You won’t need dice.
I smirked.
Cam knew everything. And sometimes… too much.
The car pulled up in front of the house, and even before the driver opened the door, I could see the twinkle of fairy lights draped across the balcony railings. Warm light spilled out from the tall windows, golden and inviting. My mother didn’t do things halfway and birthday dinners at the Quinn estate were no exception.
I slipped upstairs to freshen up before the guests started to arrive.
I stripped myself of my clothes and stepped into the bathroom.Turning on the shower, I let the steam rise before letting the water feel my skin.
My fingers traced the side of my throat where, in my dream last night, Damon had kissed me , hot, open-mouthed, possessive.
I was losing my mind and falling into a man I had no business wanting.
I turned off the shower, wrapped a towel around my body and walked back into my room. I pulled open my wardrobe to find my dress hung there like a secret I had been waiting to unveil. It was a silk champagne slip, backless, with a slit high enough to suggest danger.
I slipped into it carefully, the fabric slid over my skin like a lover’s touch. His touch.
I fastened the tiny gold chain around my neck, one that held a small rectangular charm engraved with binary code.
01001000 — the letter H.
For Hope.
The name of the AI model I’d been developing for the last six months. It was a secret project only my professor and I knew about.
Funny how I could write thousands of lines of code, encrypt sensitive data, and break into firewalls but I couldn’t firewall my own thoughts when it came to him.
Damon.
The moment I stepped out of my room, Camila was already in the hallway, holding a glass of wine.
She took one look at me and gave a long, dramatic whistle.
“Damn, Elara. If you don’t get kissed tonight, I’m suing somebody.”
I rolled my eyes at her words. “It’s just a dress.”
“It’s not just anything. It’s temptation stitched in silk.”
I didn’t argue.
Because I wanted it to be. For him.
Dinner was served in the dining room. The long table dressed in white linen, golden candlesticks lit and burning between my mom’s polished china and crystal.
I sat beside my mother and Camila. Damon was across the table, two seats down. Close enough to feel. Too far to touch.
Camila nudged me under the table with her knee.
“He’s watching you like you’re the dessert.”
“Cam,” I hissed.
“What? I’m just saying, if looks could undress, you’d be naked right now.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
Because she wasn’t wrong.
My father raised his glass for a toast.
“To Elara,” he said. “The daughter who once hacked the house Wi-Fi to prioritize her laptop over mine. The one who made our IT guy cry. Smart, stubborn, and shining brighter every year.”
Laughter was heard through the room. I smiled, warmth growing in my chest.
Then Damon stood and my heart thumped.
“I’ve known Elara her entire life,” he said, glass raised. “But tonight, she’s not the girl I grew up watching run through this house. She’s something else now. And to be honest…” His eyes landed on mine. “That’s dangerous.”
The air shifted.
Everyone laughed.
But I knew he wasn’t joking.
Neither was I.
After dinner, I slipped away into the garden for air. The scent of roses filled the air. Lights twinkled along the path.
“Running off again?” came a voice from behind me.
I didn’t have to turn to know it was him.
Damon stepped beside me, hands in his pockets, jacket off. His sleeves were still rolled, showing that tempting tattoo of his.
“You look…” he paused, eyes scanning me again. “Grownup.”
“Grownup?,”I asked in disbelief.
There were other words I wanted him to tell me and “grownup” wasn’t one of them.
“Well, yes. I don’t think you can fit over my shoulders anymore,”he replied flashing me a smile.
But my legs surely can,I thought to myself.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Message: You looked stunning tonight. Shame it’s your last birthday with all of them.
I froze.
The blood drained from my face.
“Damon…” I turned the screen to him.
He read it, and in that moment, something shifted in his expression. His calm demeanor changed to something sharp and alert.
Then—Pop!
A gunshot cracked through the night.
Then another.
Screams rang out from the house. Glass shattered. Camila’s voice cut through the chaos, in panic.
Damon grabbed my hand.
“Inside. Now.” He screamed.
We ducked behind the stone arch near the garden, his arm tight around me. His body shielded mine completely.
“They’re not aiming for anyone,” he said through clenched teeth. “Warning shots.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you’re still breathing.”
Another message buzzed in my phone.
Unknown Number:
Tell your father the past doesn’t stay buried. Tick. Tick.
Damon snatched the phone and read it again.
He exhaled slowly, jaw tight. “We need to talk. But not here.”
“What’s going on?”
He didn’t answer.
Elara!” my father’s voice boomed as he rushed toward me. He reached me in seconds, hands gripping my shoulders as his eyes swept over me. “Are you alright? Did they touch you? Speak to me.”
“I’m okay,” I murmured. “Just startled.”
His jaw clenched, the lines around his eyes deepening. He turned to Damon, voice low and urgent. “This wasn’t random, was it?”
Damon didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to.
We all knew.
- Writer
