"We stayed in one place when I was young." Davia recalled that they had lived on the beach not too far from where she was born in Stockton for a very long time. "And then my mother killed herself and..." She shook her head. "We never stayed for more than six months in a place after that." Why she had chosen to mention what her mother had done to him, she had no idea. But he seemed like the type of person who wouldn't have much to say about it, which was precisely what she liked to hear; not much at all.
Giving a small shrug of her shoulders, she didn't really divulge much else. "He just wanted to know if you were really as confrontational in person as you are in the journals sometimes. I told him that I didn't really know." And she was willing to bet that he'd not mentioned anything to Xander considering his reaction.
She couldn't stop her cheeks from flushing when he informed her that the question she had asked was a bad one. "I'm not half dressed. And I never said anything about spending the night, only about not leaving yet." There was something infectious about his smile. She couldn't quite keep herself from returning it even though she had every reason not to smile right about now. And his eyes...
Davia was unable to take her eyes from his own even as he leaned forward and placed his hand upon her thigh. Her body tensed, but she neither pushed him away nor did she pull away from him. "You really are trouble." Her words came out as a whisper as a bit of a smile tugged at her lips.
There were many thoughts going through her mind just then. She thought about Charlie, about Maggie, thought about LA, thought about her job, and then, of course, about her father. It seemed she could never get close to any many without seeing his face and feeling that familiar inner turmoil that thoughts of him always brought to mind.
"What kind of man are you, Xander?" She did nothing to change the space between them, however the smile had faded from her lips and her features and tone had both turned much more serious.