Chapter 105: Damien Lockwood: 4, My Dignity: -2
•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•✾•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•
Normally, I could’ve jumped right back into my usual routine without a hitch. Today, though, my brain had apparently filed its resignation overnight and left no forwarding address.
I almost poured milk into a customer’s tea instead of their coffee. I blanked on two separate orders within five minutes. At one point, I stared at the register like it had personally betrayed me, completely forgetting how basic math worked.
"Oliver."
"Hm?"
"The coffee."
"Oh—!" I rushed to grab it before it overflowed, barely catching it in time.
"You’re acting weird today," Maya noted, watching me with the intensity of someone gathering evident. "I mean you’re always weird, but today’s kinda different."
"I’m fine."
She crossed her arms. "Are you sure."
No.
"I’m sure." I said.
"You don’t sound too convinced yourself."
"I—" I paused, just a fraction too long. "I’m sure."
How could I possibly tell her that the rich, scary hottie guy who’s also my roommate that I had feelings for gave me a fucking handjob last night?
I was not ready for that conversation, man.
Her eyes narrowed like a detective closing in. "...Did this happen because of a certain tall, hot roommate?"
Maya’s question snapped me back to reality, but my mind drifted right back again.
Last night, Damien had started by playing with my nipples, circling them, pinching them, rolling them between his fingers until they were achy and sensitive.
Then the way he slipped his hand into my sweatpants, wrapping around me, and the sensation was overwhelming.
The way I came apart so quickly, trembling and gasping, while he kept right on stroking me like he was trying to squeeze out every last bit of pleasure.
The ceramic cup in my hands nearly slipped to the floor, thankfully I caught it. "W-What?"
"Oh?"
My face flushed at the thought. Why am I thinking about this now? I’m at work. I’m supposed to act normal. I shouldn’t be so affected by my roommate touching me.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Damn, look at your face. You turned red."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
"I’m totally, completely normal."
"You nearly dropped a mug just now."
"I just have poor grip strength. It’s a documented condition."
Maya burst into laughter, loud enough to draw the mild interest of a customer at a nearby table. "You are weird as fuck."
"I have no idea what you’re implying."
"I didn’t imply anything."
"You definitely implied something."
She just smiled, the kind of smile that made it clear she had implied everything and was thoroughly enjoying watching me dig my own grave.
"I said nothing," she replied.
I opened my mouth, then closed it. I realized with a creeping dread that I was making everything worse by keeping this conversation going.
"...I’m going back to work."
"Good plan."
She called after me, her voice bursting with too much amusement to be genuinely supportive. "And try not to daydream about the love of your life so hard this time."
"I wasn’t daydreaming!"
"Whatever you say, Romeo."
The customer rush finally started to ease up by early afternoon. I was just beginning to convince myself that the day might actually end without any more embarrassing moments, not much of a goal, but one I was determined to meet when the little bell above the café door chimed.
Several conversations faded mid-sentence. A couple of customers glanced toward the entrance. One of the newer waitresses softly whispered, "Wow."
I boredly looked up on autopilot and immediately regretted it.
Damien walked in, clad in dark jeans, a fitted black shirt, and a light jacket draped casually over one shoulder. His hair was still slightly damp, as if he’d showered right before heading out, and he strolled through the café with that effortless confidence that made people glance over without even meaning to
I almost burst into tears...
Why was my life like this?
It was just so entirely unfair.
Maya looked back and forth between him and me, her face lighting up with the slowest, most delighted grin.
"Oh," she said. "Oh, this is interesting."
Before she could say another word, I spun on my heel and marched straight to the storeroom with a brisk stride that said I was definitely not running away.
It was a strategic retreat, actical relocation. Not running away, not at all.
As soon as I slipped inside, I quietly shut the door behind me and leaned against a shelf filled with coffee bags, breathing like I had just run a marathon.
I leaned against the storeroom wall, trying to catch my breath, but the memories crashed back stronger than ever.
"I just need five minutes," I whispered to the shelf, which didn’t care either way. "Five minutes to figure out how to look another human being in the eye."
Footsteps approached outside.
The door opened.
Without turning around, I sighed in relief. "Maya?"
No response.
I rubbed my forehead. "Has he left yet?"
Silence.
"...Please tell me he’s gone."
The silence lingered just long enough for every instinct in my body to start screaming.
Slowly, I turned around.
Damien stood in the doorway, one hand still on the handle, a hint of amusement dancing at the corners of his mouth. The door clicked shut behind him with a soft but undeniable finality.
"Running away from me again, sunshine?"
Every coherent thought I had left me faster than I could process. The storeroom, which had felt perfectly fine a moment ago, now felt painfully small.
Oh...no.
How did he even...?
Damien stepped a bit closer after shutting the door and locking it, moving as if he had all the time in the world and planned to wait right there until I gave him what he wanted.
I had spent the whole morning meticulously avoiding this moment. Now, here I was, trapped in a tiny room with him, my heart pounding so loud I was pretty sure he could hear it over the sound of the espresso machine on the other side of the wall.
And still, I had no clue what I was supposed to say to the guy who had flipped my world upside down somewhere between a thunderstorm and this morning.