Chapter 132: Blue-Eyed Men Are a Public Health Hazard
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I sniffled and pointed an unsteady finger at Damien’s chest.
"Forgive you? You," I declared, my voice wobbling as much as I felt, "are the biggest idiot at Hawthorne University."
Damien didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed. He did look apologetic or remorseful, which is how someone should react after a confession like his. Instead, his mouth twitched up just a bit, as if he’d been waiting for me to finish talking.
"I’ve had worse names thrown at me," he replied.
"Oh, don’t do that," I groaned, weakly swatting at his shoulder. "This isn’t a joke. You admitted it. You really admitted it."
Damien shifted a little closer but didn’t invade my space. I could feel his warmth next to me, steady and familiar in a way I had tried hard not to acknowledge.
"I’m sorry, Oliver."
His tone had changed; the teasing vanished completely, replaced by something genuine and unguarded.
"I shouldn’t have tried to make you jealous."
I continued staring at the wall.
"I thought you’d glare at me for a while," he said tentatively. "Or maybe ignore me for the night."
Silence.
"I never expected to make you cry."
That hit differently, right in the chest where I was most vulnerable.
Before I fully understood what he was doing, Damien brushed his thumb gently beneath my eye, his touch tentative, like he wasn’t sure he could.
Apparently, I still had tear tracks. Great.
"I’m really sorry," he said again, his voice low enough I felt the words more than I heard them.
I swallowed hard; although my anger lingered, it was now mingled with something softer and far more perilous.
"You scared me," I admitted, the words slipping out before I could reconsider.
"I know."
"I thought—" I let out a thin, broken laugh. "I thought maybe all we’ve been through didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me."
What followed was a silence filled with weight, as if he was about to say something significant.
"It means everything to me."
He said it quickly, without hesitation or any show, his words direct and sincere.
My gaze met his, and there wasn’t a trace of teasing or playfulness—just that honest look he had that appeared so rarely I found myself gathering them like treasures.
"You idiot," I whispered.
"I know."
"You’re such an asshole."
"Yeah."
His immediate, honest replies..
the ones devoid of deflection, pulled an involuntary, watery laugh from me before I could stop it.
"There you are," he said softly.
"Don’t act like you won something."
But didn’t he though? He did win, I had no desire to fight against him or my attraction to him anymore.
Damien’s expression softened a bit, but that familiar smirk still lingered at the corners of his mouth, completely unapologetic. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my tear-streaked cheek, his lips warm and sorry against my flushed skin.
"I’m sorry," he murmured, his forehead resting against mine. "If you don’t want anyone else getting that close, then I won’t let anyone get that close either."
Something fluttered in my chest, ignoring all my attempts to control it.
"Y...you promise?"
"I promise."
I searched his face for any hint of insincerity, any sign there was a punchline coming, but found only that look he had when he meant every word he said.
I pouted, turning my face away even while my hands gripped the front of his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring me. The room spun slightly from the alcohol, but my emotions were crystal clear.
I muttered, my words thick and heavy. "I can’t even stay fucking mad at you when you make that face. It’s not fair...Fine."
"I’m sorry?"
"I said fine, I forgive you or whatever." I grumbled, though there was no real heat behind it. My pout deepened, but I could feel myself softening, the fight slowly draining under the warmth of his hands on my back.
"Hm? A bit louder, please; I didn’t quite catch that—"
"I forgive you, Damien, I swear to God—!"
Damien’s smirk widened into a genuine smile as he pecked me lightly on the lips, a quick, grateful touch that sent a little spark through me
His smile returned, even warmer than before, more genuine than the teasing smiles. "Thank you."
I poked his shoulder. "Don’t make me take it back."
"I wouldn’t dream of it."
He chuckled softly, and I found myself running low on the energy needed to stay annoyed, which was probably his plan all along.
"You know," he said after a pause, "you’re surprisingly emotional when you’re wasted. It’s kind of cute, honestly."
I gasped. "I am perfectly emotionally balanced!"
"You cried."
I covered my face with my hands, staying there for a moment in the comforting darkness. "I hate drunk me," I mumbled.
"I don’t."
"Drunk me says stupid stuff."
"Drunk you is honest," he countered. "Which is more than I can say for sober you sometimes."
"That’s..." I lowered my hands and pointed at him. "That’s a valid observation, and I resent it."
"I know."
I peeked at him through my fingers. "Drunk me also can’t resist..." I stopped short.
"To?" he prompted, his patience evident.
"...your stupid face."
His eyebrows shot up. "My face."
"It’s just annoying."
"My face is annoying."
"Deeply annoying."
"Interesting. Tell me more about how annoying my face is."
"I’d rather not."
"You brought it up."
"I’m allowed to regret it."
"You can’t introduce a topic and then refuse to elaborate—"
"Watch me, asshole."
He smiled, and I looked away. The room felt warmer, or maybe it was just my cheeks; either way, I couldn’t deal with that right now.
Then he said, "So."
The way he said it indicated he was about to circle back to something.
"...What?" I asked.
He looked at my face for a moment, something thoughtful flickering in his eyes before he spoke again. "Does this mean you admit you like me?"
I shit you not when I say very last coherent thought in my head packed up and left.
"...What?"
"You heard me."
I hiccuped, the noise embarrassingly loud in the quiet room, and looked away, my face burning. "Hmph, what’s it to you?"
That grin of his was back, the confident, teasing gleam shining in his eyes. "So, you do like me."
I rolled my eyes, but even that made the room tilt more than I expected. Damien leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, seductive whisper as his breath brushed my ear
"Come on, now. I’d really like to hear you say it."
The room felt hotter than before for reasons I couldn’t pin down. My ears were burning, and I was sure if anyone looked at me now, they’d see a person wrestling with a series of bad decisions from the night.