Chapter 125: Breaking News: I Am The Jealous Type
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Maya leaned against the counter, looking out toward the backyard through the open glass doors. "Ooh."
"What?"
She subtly pointed with her drink. "Red swimsuit. Eight out of ten."
I looked. "...Okay?"
"I’m rating people. I wanna fuck by the end of tonight."
Joey nodded solemnly. "Oh, I respect the commitment."
She scanned the backyard with the intensity of someone doing an important assessment. "Blonde guy by the grill." A pause. "Seven. But he keeps flexing, which drops him to a six."
"What about him?" Joey pointed to someone climbing out of the pool.
Maya tilted her head. "Pretty smile. But I think he uses ’bro’ fifty percent of the time, so—five."
"You’re brutal," Joey said.
"I’m efficient." She turned to me. "What about you? Anyone catch your eye to explore being bi with? Aside Damien that is."
My gaze moved guys without conscious thought, landing on Damien across the backyard like it was just meant to be. He was lounging by a group of chairs, chatting with some people, casually rolling his sleeves up in a way that shouldn’t have mattered but somehow did.
I quickly looked away.
"...Not really."
"Yeah bro’s completely whipped," Joey said instantly.
"You didn’t even look around," Maya added.
"I looked."
"You looked directly at one person for four seconds."
"The backyard is a general direction. I was surveying."
"You were surveying Damien."
"He just happened to be in that area."
"Sure."
I stuffed the rest of my pizza slice into my mouth, hoping it would keep me from having to elaborate. Maya’s knowing smile was in my peripheral vision, which I tried to ignore with all my might.
Not looking at something only gave my mind the freedom to create its own narrative, and that was worse. Eventually, against my better judgment and all the advice I’d give a friend in this situation, I glanced back at the backyard.
He’d moved, of course...Damien never stayed put long enough to be predictable. Now, he was sitting on one of the fancy outdoor couches by the pool, surrounded by a bunch of people who looked like they were straight out of a magazine.
Three guys. Two girls.
And then, just as I watched...a hot brunette in a black bikini dropped onto the arm of the couch beside him, laughed at something, and then, with total confidence, shifted onto his lap.
My eyes narrowed, Damien was letting some girl sitting on his lap.
Her hand settled on his chest. She leaned in, chatting, laughing, close enough that she clearly had no problem with the proximity.
Damien looked, calm...polite. He wasn’t pushing her away. Why would he?
She was stunning and confident and curvy in the right places, she seemed at ease in a way I’d never experienced at a party, and she fit next to Damien perfectly in a way I, objectively, did not.
She was probably a Elite too.
She wasn’t out of his league...like I was.
Something twisted sharply in my chest. Not slowly or gradually...more like a hard hit, landing in a place that wasn’t ready for it.
I looked away.
My fingers had tightened around the bottle without me realizing it.
"...Oliver?"
Joey’s voice pulled me back from wherever I’d drifted. "Huh?"
"You okay?"
"I’m fine."
"You’ve crushed your bottle."
I glanced down. Sure enough, the plastic was buckled under my grip, showing way more pressure than fruit punch required. "Oops."
Maya noticed where I was looking too. When she turned back, her expression had shifted into something softer, more careful. "...Oh."
"What?"
Joey looked over as well. Then understanding dawned on him in that way where you could tell he was piecing it together. "...Oh shit."
I took a long drink from my punch. It tasted different than I’d expected, sweeter, somehow, stronger at the back of my throat.
I frowned at it, probably just an expensive brand. I took another sip anyway.
"You look like you want to murder that girl," Maya said gently. "Or is it Damien...?"
"Yeah, dude you look intense." Joey added.
"I have an intense resting face. It’s documented." I said weakly.
Joey, bless his heart, quietly slid over a plate filled with brownies, cookies, and mini sandwiches, all without comment. That might have been the kindest thing he’d done all semester.
"When in doubt," he said, patting the plate gently, "feed the nuclear bomb before he explodes."
A laugh slipped out before I could stop it...small, surprised, genuinely amused. "You’re calling me a nuclear bomb now?"
"You’ve upgraded from grizzly bear."
"Congratulations, allegedly."
"We’re very proud."
I picked up a brownie and took another sip of that punch that was definitely stronger than standard fruit punch, but I decided not to dwell on that. The brownie was good. The kitchen was warm. Joey and Maya were here.
I could handle this.
I absolutely would not look toward the pool again.
Maya rested her elbow on the counter and looked at me with that gentle vibe she uses when she’s decided to ease up on the teasing for a bit.
"You know," she said quietly, "it’s okay to feel what you’re feeling, sweetie."
"I’m not feeling...anything."
"Oliver."
"I’m not jealous."
"I didn’t use the word jealous."
I focused on the counter, on the brownie in my hand. On the safe distance between me and the backyard and whatever I didn’t want to think about.
The truth was I had no ground to stand on. Damien wasn’t mine. He never had been.
He could sit with whoever the fuck he wanted, smile at anyone he pleased, let whoever he wanted sit on his lap, and it was none of my business in any sense I could logically defend.
And yet.
I’d seen Melanie with someone else and felt a sense of well, that’s resolved then. Mild, manageable and disappointment with enough distance to survive it.
Watching that girl laugh on Damien’s lap for just thirty seconds had shattered something in me way worse than that.
The math was simple. Extremely simple and very inconvenient.
Joey quietly nudged a cookie my way too, saying nothing...maybe the nicest thing he could have done.
I ate it, across the backyard, I kept my gaze fixed on the kitchen.
Because I already knew what I’d see if I looked.
And I’d seen enough to realize that whatever I’d been telling myself about just friends and temporary arrangement and this isn’t going anywhere was a lot farther from reality than I wanted to admit.
Which meant I had a problem.
A very specific, very warm, very blue-eyed problem who seemingly belonged anywhere...at any party, with any crowd, and who had told me, on the way here, not to wander too far.
I had no damn right to feel what I was feeling.
Because he wasn’t mine...
But I felt it anyway.