Chapter 136: The Morning After My Dignity Died
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When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was warmth as I usually did nowadays living with Damien.
For a little while, I kept my eyes shut and just soaked in that feeling, which turned out to be the smartest thing I could do this morning. My head felt like it was carrying a heavy load. My mouth tasted like I’d swallowed a chemistry set. There was a polite yet persistent thumping behind my eyes that seemed to be rehearsing the list of terrible choices I’d made the night before.
Attendance noted, my brain chimed in. You fucking did this.
I know, I shot back internally. Just let me be.
I frowned at the darkness behind my eyelids.
Then, I realized there was an arm wrapped around my waist.
A very familiar arm. It was arm, a little too familiar, in that inconvenient way things get when you’ve been consciously avoiding admitting how much you’ve noticed them over the past few months.
I opened my eyes.
I was in Damien’s bed.
More specifically, Damien was behind me, his arm securely around my waist, and my head resting on his chest. Our legs had tangled together in that way that seemed to ignore individual territory.
"..."
I stared at the curtain.
The curtain stared right back.
I knew I was at that moment when I should freak out... the usual sequence of freeze, register what’s happening, bolt upright, run away and pretend it never occurred. I’d been there before. I knew the drill.
Rather than springing up in embarrassment or scrambling to put space between us after such a wild and embarrassing freaking night, I found myself lingering in his embrace, settling deeper into the comfort of it all. It felt... nice.
Carefully, I tilted my head to get a better look at him.
Still asleep. Without his usual composed, stupid know-it-all face, Damien looked younger... softer, almost, like sleep had peeled back a layer he usually kept on during waking hours.
His dark hair had fallen over his forehead in its usual messy way, and the gentle morning light touched his face with a kindness that seemed a bit excessive given the circumstances.
My chest did something small and embarrassing.
I sighed quietly at the ceiling. "You’re in real trouble, Oliver."
And then, because the universe clearly has a sense of humor...the memories came flooding back.
The party. The music. Joey’s fruit punch that was anything but. Watching a girl plop down on Damien’s lap like she owned the place, and the ugly, fiery feeling that stirred within me.
Me marching across the yard. Tugging Damien away from the crowd. The argument that involved a pillow, several accusations, and some awkward dessert negotiations.
And then.
I recalled everything else, a tearful confession, the frantic grinding that left me utterly spent, and how he had carried me home like I was weightless.
Heat flooded my cheeks as I realized someone...Damien, of course, had changed me into these soft sweatpants, gently wiping away the evidence of our passionate encounter.
"..."
"Oh no."
Heat flushed my face so quickly I was genuinely surprised I didn’t start steaming.
I like you. Said out loud, to his face. Quietly, but unmistakably.
I buried my face in the pillow and stayed there.
"I actually said it," I muttered into the pillowcase. "I said it to his face. While he was awake."
The pillowcase didn’t offer any wisdom...
I sat there processing this. "I can never look him in the eye again. I’ll have to focus slightly to the left of his face for the duration of our living arrangement."
The funny thing was and I knew it was irrational considering the list of humiliations I’d just collected, I wasn’t uncomfortable.
In fact, I felt surprisingly calm, aside from the usual existential dread of someone who had confessed their feelings while running at about forty percent capacity. His arm around my waist was just as it had always been: warm and steady, a comfortable weight that I’d taken for granted over time.
I found myself realizing, somewhat confusingly, that I was completely relaxed.
Which either meant I had transformed overnight, or I had simply run out of the energy it takes to deny feelings.
Most likely the latter.
A soft movement behind me indicated Damien was starting to wake, and his arms tightened around me instinctively before he let out a low, sleepy hum that sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.
"Morning, sunshine." he murmured, his voice still rough from sleep yet tinged with that familiar teasing affection that sent my pulse racing
I froze so completely I might as well have stopped breathing.
Very slowly, like someone who knows they’re already in a losing situation, I turned to look over my shoulder.
Damien had one eye open. His lazy smile had that unmistakable quality of someone who had been awake slightly longer than they let on and was truly enjoying the view.
"You look like you had quite the night," he said, with that self-satisfied tone that implied he was enjoying the emotional chaos he was stirring with such a simple remark.
This asshole...
I groaned. "Fuck...I hate you."
His chuckle was low and unhurried, vibrating through his chest and into mine, and I hated that I had noticed that detail.
"Got a headache?" he asked.
I buried my face in the pillow, my cheeks burning as a reluctant smile crept onto my lips. The embarrassment was there, fluttering in my chest, but it didn’t overwhelm me "Someone’s drumming on my skull."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?"
"I’ll admit it was fun to see you all drunk and stupid." His smile softened into something less smug.
Damien propped himself on one elbow, turning me gently to face him. His eyes met mine, warm and searching, filled with genuine concern wrapped in that confident charm of his
"You remember last night?"
My flush deepened, spreading across my face and neck as memories replayed in vivid detail—the desperate way I had moved against him, the filthy praise he had whispered, the climax that had knocked me out cold.
Damn, drunk me really didn’t hold back with my sexual fantasies...did he?
I looked up at the ceiling. No point in pretending I didn’t.
"Yeah."
Every last shitty detail. But I was grateful the alcohol hadn’t completely wiped my memories.
I wanted it to stay with me forever.
"Oh?" The grin on his face got even more infuriating. "So you remember saying you like me."
My body reached a uniform temperature that felt unprecedented. Every part of me. "...Maybe."
"That’s a yes."
"I never said yes."
"You didn’t say no."
"I said maybe, which is still a gray area—"
"It’s not."
I groaned into the pillow again, making it a coping mechanism at this point. "God you are so annoying, go away."