The Girl with the Fire Heart

Valentina pinches her arm to make sure she isn’t dreaming. When she feels the sting of her own self-inflicted pain, she knows all too well that this is no dream. She walks alongside Damon, passing beautifully crafted chairs and wonderfully designed bar tops. She passes by other men and women dressed smartly, the men smoking cigars and the women wearing small but splendidly fashioned hats. The trio make their way towards a long staircase that looks a lot like the one she climbed up the night before.

The fire in Valentina's necklace whooshes from the memory of dancing with Elliot. She looks down at her necklace, almost willing it to forget the moment had even happened just like she was trying to. The night had ended in a success, so why did she feel like she was marching into round two of the battle that would be her past with Elliot?

After what feels like forever, the small group make it to the top floor of the building and the butler bows and sweeps his hand towards the closed doors that are in front of them, a good ten feet away from the landing from the stairs. Valentina allows Damon to step in front of her, pulling the door open so she can step inside.

Damon follows her into the room and Valentina can’t shake the feeling that they have once again walked themselves straight into the lion’s den. Valentina glances over at Damon and watches as his eyes scan the room, not lingering on any particular person or object for too long before moving on to the next. She wonders, just briefly, if this is what he was like as a child. Constantly watching, constantly aware, too focused on others’ perceptions of how he perceived himself rather than just being himself, the version of him she knows and loves.

The word slams into her mind before she has a second to process it. Valentina knows she has admitted to falling in love with him, but she didn’t think she could feel actual love for him the way she does in this very moment. Again, she is taken aback at the sheer force of the word bouncing around in her mind, never allowing itself to settle, choosing instead to keep pinging from one crevice of her mind to another.

Valentina watches, almost detached, as Damon seems to decide where to steer her first. Valentina takes his offered arm and turns to face the crowd slyly watching them.

The pair slowly inch forward and Valentina pushes her shoulders back not wanting to give the crowd any reason to pounce on her fears and exploit them like she secretly suspects they would. Damon guides her to the layered seating that looks out over the race track from a wall to wall window. He takes her to the front row, waving over a bartender.

She notices that Damon looks uncomfortable with his seating choice, but instead of moving them to different spot, he waits for Valentina to sit, following her lead once she's settled.

Valentina feels her fire tug at him and she leans over and whispers low enough so only he can hear.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

“I’m fine. Why do you ask?” he replies.

“You seem uncomfortable,” she answers.

She sees a brief flash of shame before he lets out a small sigh and crosses his right leg over his left, forcing his body to lean over the arm of the chair that separates them and closer to her. His body heat warms her already flushed skin but she forces herself to listen to him rather than her body.

“Normally, I would sit in the back or near the bar. But I wanted you to have the best view of the tracks and you can only do that from down here,” he admits. “If I am uncomfortable, it is only because from this seat, I can’t protect you the way I want to. I don’t have a clear view of any possible danger from down here.”

Valentina realizes he is not ashamed, but rather embarrassed. She can’t imagine why. The fact that he so readily forfeited his comfortability for her experience is enough for her to feel that silly little L word ring in her ears again. This time, she can feel it pressing against the tip of her tongue, ready to be blurted out unceremoniously. She fights diligently to keep it tucked inside of her before responding to him.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have sat in the back or at the bar with you,” she finally reassures.

“Nonsense. This is your first time at a race and it will be the best first race you have ever been to,” he states. Valentina can hear the finality in his tone and knows there’s no arguing with him once his mind is made up. She smiles despite herself, and turns her attention to the bartender that approaches.

“What can I get for you sir? Miss?” he nods at each of them, skipping formalities.

From the corner of her eye, she sees a small commotion and turns her attention over to it while Damon orders for the both of them. She, instead, focuses on what is happening off in the corner of the room. She sees two women, one dressed in an off white wrap dress and the other dressed in a light grey dress of a similar style.

Valentina squints her eyes, seeing that one of those women is familiar to her. One of the women turns their face to the side and she can see that it's Ava. Ave waves her arms wildly at the other woman. The woman in the grey wrap dress simply stands with her hands on her hips and responds calmly back at Ava. Valentina recognizes the familiarity of the two women. Just as she decides to turn back to face the window, she catches Ava's stunned expression as whatever the other woman said seems to have struck a cord with the young mother.

Ava turns and storms off leaving the young woman standing alone. Valentina shifts in her seat, but not before seeing the woman's head drop, take a deep breath, then walk away in the same direction Ava took off in.