Off Limits

Author's Note//I support Emily/Damon, as much as I love Razor. Just sayin'. HOWEVER, for all the Razor fans out there, this takes place after Razor finally gets the balls to ask Emily out, and they get together. Wooooo~

Summary//A Damon angsty, secret love story. ;)

Disclaimer// I DON'T OWN ANYTHING!

I remember the first time I saw her, at that Kegger. Tons of shit went down that night, and this was no exception. I didn't know her name, she was just so beautiful. And when Razor said her name, Emily Kmetko, I realized, with a sinking heart, that this was Razor's girl. She would always be Razor's girl. She is, forever now I s'pose, Razor's girl. My best friend's girl. The irony, it burns like a bullet to my heart. Which is pathetic on my part. But completely and utterly true.

And then I met her mother. I think that was one of the more entertaining days of my life. Top ten for sure. She was hilarious, and fun, but part of me sympathized with Emily. Having your mom tell all your secrets to a near stranger? Probably sucked. But it was entertaining for me, or so I made it out to be. I played the part of cynical jerk all to well. It is a role I am neither proud of, or bad at. It is also the easiest role to play, might I add.

I remember the kiss. Holy Jesus, do I remember that kiss. Could she tell that it lit me on fire? Could she tell there was nothing more I wanted in the moment but to kiss her again, and again? Could she? She was shocked, I knew. And, secretly, I hoped, pleased with it. But when she asked why, I had lied. Not the first time to her, and not the last. Not the last by a long shot. I had told her what her mother had said, and rage burned in her eyes. Should I have said the total truth? That she had looked so innocent? So beautiful? Should I have said that I was determined to prove I was not Razor, and never would be? 'I did it to prove a point, and I did it because I have no self control. Pity me, and kiss me again.' That would of went over real well. Yeah, no.

I remember the Fashion Show. Some of those girls were horrid sluts. Hot, true, but sluts all the same. Though, they were gymnasts. That requires a ton of work and dedication and a certain level of talent. So I should of respected them. But I didn't. These were the girls she was too scared to show herself to. Her true self. Not that I should talk about bravery. Emily was right on one thing, I wrote song lyrics. And I was too scared, to weak, to sing them myself. Instead, they were passed off to Razor. Razor... my best mate, who I loathed with every breathe in my being. Typical story, right? But Emily didn't know one thing: I wrote songs about her. She was my muse, and that day, when she caught me 'scribbling' on a take-out menu, I had been writing about her. Well, lyrics in general, but based on her. She inspired me.

I remember the look of surprise that crossed her face, when she saw me sitting next to the runway. I remember the smirk that spread across her face when she saw I thought she was gorgeous. Past gorgeous. She was the epitome of beauty. That was the first time, I think, I fully realized I wanted her. Here was a girl who was athletic, beautiful, funny, and would win a gold metal. Because she would. She had my complete faith. I couldn't even keep eye contact with her. And, to add to that, she hosted an extreme dislike to me and my kind This story is becoming really pathetic. Anyways, that was the first night Emily Kmetko entered my dreams.

And those are just the firsts. There isn't too many. There are more lasts. The last time she smiled at me, for me, because she loved me. The last time I ever held her in my arms. The last time when she smiled at me first, then Razor. Yes, there are many, many more lasts.

I remember the last time I spoke to her, just her, privately her. She had looked directly into my eyes, and I thought about how amazing she was for the trillionth time that day. How much I wanted her. It took all my restraint not to hold her, not to kiss her. I wonder if she knew that? She had asked me, plain and simple, if I loved her. I said no. That was the biggest, most blatant lie of my life. I wonder if she knows how much I lied to her. She had ducked her head, and nodded, and I embraced her in a hug. And thus ends the chapter of Damon Young in her life.

Now, because this is not a memory, I am watching her walk up the aisle. I am watching her eyes slide over me, for one brief moment. I am holding back tears. She is stunning. I look away. I am weak. I look at the man beside me. He is happy. I can't take this from him. I can't. Not my best mate. Not Razor. Is she happy? I think so. He makes her happy in a way I never could, never would. In a way, I am happy for her. In a way, I feel like breaking down and sobbing. Her mom, in the audience, is crying, her brother smiling. Cute kid.

I watch her say I do. I cheer along with everyone else. I even force out a smile, for my sake. Think happy, be happy, right? I don't watch, however, as they kiss. I can't handle it. I look down. I wonder if anyone bothers to notice. The best man looking away as his best friend and the love of his life join in marital union. Typical, tragic, love story. Story of my life.

Because it is just as he told me the night I had met her. Emily Kmetko is off limits. She has always been. That didn't stop me from falling for her, and falling big time, but she was off limits. Out of my league. In love with my best friend. Which is why she will never know. She will never know that she was my first love. The first, and only, girl I would unconditionally walk to the end of the world for. The girl who inspired more songs I care to count. That is my secret.

I think she knows, though. She is smart, and my face has always been obvious. I think she knew...I think she always knew. But I will never know.