Chapter 108: Turns Out God Has Favorites (18+?)
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It’s funny, really.
The moment I decided to act normal, all sense of what normal was flew right out the window. Walking turned into this whole calculated process.
Standing still felt downright suspicious. Even breathing became something that I started overthinking, and let’s be real...no one should have to think that hard about it.
This realization nagged at me for days, like a shadow that just wouldn’t quit judging me.
On the surface, life had slipped back into a comfortable routine with Damien, one we never really talked about. Most mornings, we’d wake up together, usually all tangled up under the same blanket after I somehow migrated to his side of the bed.
We’d rush to our classes when our schedules matched up, bicker about who should do the dishes, and whip up dinner in our big ass kitchen, which was still fancier than any place I’d lived before. Evenings were spent sprawled across the couch, watching TV while mostly just exchanging sarcastic comments about whatever show was on.
To anyone looking in, it seemed like nothing had changed.
But for me? Everything had.
It wasn’t Damien. No, the issue was all me. Ever since that moment in the storeroom, since those sugar packets and that question lingering between us, heavy with things I still didn’t know how to answer...my perspective on him had shifted.
Not because he’d changed. He still smiled way too much whenever I got flustered, as if my embarrassment was his very own personal entertainment.
He still sneaked bites off my plate whenever he thought I wasn’t noticing, which I totally was, I’d even started tallying them up out of sheer spite.
And he still walked around half naked, a habit that should’ve driven me nuts but had somehow, against all odds, become one of my favorite sights in the apartment.
No, the real problem was that I’d begun to notice things I’d never really paid attention to before. Like how his laughter always reached his eyes, crinkling in a way that made it feel genuine instead of rehearsed.
Or how he’d instinctively place a hand on the small of my back when we crossed busy streets when we went grocery shopping, steering me clear of cars without even realizing he was doing it. And every morning, somehow, he made bedhead look good, which just didn’t seem fair.
It was all terribly distracting.
I was trying hard to keep things normal... believe me I was, for what was left of my sanity, to stuff those thoughts into a mental box labeled "One-Time Thing" and seal it shut.
My pride wouldn’t let me admit how much those memories affected me, how Damien had shifted from my annoying, infuriating but lovable roommate to someone whose presence made my heart race and my thoughts wander into...well, uncharted territories.
I kept telling myself it was just leftover adrenaline from the unusual situation and nothing more. But every time I caught a glimpse of him across the breakfast table, especially when I saw how his shirt pulled across his shoulders as he lifted his dumbbells.
As if my continuous gawking couldn’t get any worse, this happened.
One afternoon, after a long day of classes and minding my own business, I returned home utterly drained and craving a hot shower to wash off the day and fifteen minutes of peace where no one expected a thing from me—not professors, not Maya with her endless theories, not even my own brain, which had been running overtime.
The apartment was quiet when I walked in, with Damien’s shoes by the door hinting he was around but likely busy elsewhere.
I pushed the apartment door open, letting out a tired sigh. "Damien?"
Nothing.
I tossed my backpack on the couch, grabbed a towel from the hall closet, and wandered toward the bathroom without even a second thought.
Without thinking, I opened the bathroom door, because it’ll be locked when it was vacant, towel slung over my shoulder and already tugging at my shirt. The steam hit me like a warm blanket, carrying the clean scent of Damien’s body wash.
And then I saw him.
My jaw might have dropped the the damn floor but to be honest I wasn’t a hundred percent sure since I was very... distracted.
Damien stood in the shower, completely naked, water cascading down his toned back and over his firm backside. I froze, too stunned to move.
His broad shoulders led down to a narrow waist, every muscle defined as the water glistened against his skin. When he turned to rinse his hair, I couldn’t help but let my eyes drift lower.
I almost fainted because there was no fucking way he also won ’this’ genetic lottery!
As if his face was good enough!
His cock hung heavy between his thighs, thick even in its soft state, a sight that made my mouth dry and my mind spiral with curiosity.
God! How was he that fucking big?!
That wasn’t a dick, a weapon would be a more appropriate word to call that huge thing!
That could ruin someone... girl or a dude, in the best and most terrifying way. A surge of both jealousy and raw desire washed over me.
I didn’t know if I wanted to have that cock size or have that cock.
I had never felt so acutely aware of someone else’s body, nor had I ever had such a desperate urge to reach out, to trace his lines and see if he felt as solid as he looked.
Lord help me, because how could someone win the genetic lottery twice?!
As if his face card wasn’t good enough?!
There I stood like a fool, rooted to the spot, my face burning as my mind conjured unhelpful images of what it might feel like to press against him, warm and slick from the water.
The temptation crashed over me, tugging at the resolve I had built over the past few days. My pride was yelling at me to turn away, but my body refused to listen, caught in the magnetic pull of the moment.
Then Damien turned fully, pushing his dark wet hair back from his forehead and meeting my gaze through the glass. Surprise flickered across his face for just a moment before it morphed into that familiar, knowing smirk.
"Enjoying the view, Sunshine?"
Holy fucking shit...
His voice jolted me out of my daze. "Shit–!"
I stammered, my face on fire with embarrassment. I stumbled backward, almost tripping over my feet in my frantic retreat.
"Fuck! I’m so s...sorry! I didn’t mean—uh...I thought the bathroom was empty...I’ll just—"
I yanked the door shut behind me and dashed down the hall, my heart pounding like I’d just sprinted marathons instead of simply walking in on him at the worst moment.
The rest of the evening was a haze of awkwardness as I tried to avoid eye contact. I busied myself in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner with more focus than necessary, insisting to myself that I could forget about what had just happened.
But it was pretty hard to forget about that type of cock...which was odd because I’ve seen other guys dicks before, for crying out loud I had a fucking dick too!
But for some reason my stupid ass mind thought his dick deserved to be in engraved in a special spot in my brain...?
Eventually, Damien appeared and I nearly flinched at his arrival, his hair still damp, wearing a clean shirt snug over his shoulders, moving around the kitchen with that easy confidence of his.
He didn’t say anything initially, just joined me at the counter to help out, yet I could feel his eyes on me, warm and amused.
I shut my eyes, struggling to pretend not to notice his presence and trying to take deep breaths to calm my racing heart and red as fuck cheeks.
Please don’t say anything, please don’t say anything, please don’t say anything...
But of course, stupid Damien Lockwood did say something...after a few minutes of relative silence, he finally broke it, his teasing tone both unnerving and enticing.
"You didn’t answer my question, did you enjoy the show earlier?" he asked casually while reaching past me for the salt, his arm brushing against mine, sending a jolt through me.
Fucking hell.