Chapter 157: Damien Lockwood Doesn’t Do Sharing
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I grabbed the nearest dish towel and tossed it at him. He caught it like it was nothing as he laughed, which was somehow the most infuriating thing possible.
"Shut up! You’re so fucking infuriating!"
"So I’ve been told."
"I’m going to shower," I declared, needing a way out of the conversation and my face to cool down. I grabbed my change of clothes like someone in retreat. "And when I come back, I expect you to have completely forgotten that last part."
He faked a dramatic gasp, "How could I possibly forget our engagement ceremony just now?"
"You better cut it out or I’ll bury your sorry ass!"
I pointed at him one last time for emphasis, getting a smile in return that was doing too much, and then I slipped down the hallway. At the bathroom door, I paused and looked back.
The door clicked shut. The water started, and from somewhere under the sound, I could hear myself trying to sing in a key that was definitely not right.
[Damien Lockwood]
The apartment settled into that specific quiet that only happened when Oliver was in the shower — not exactly empty, but reduced to the sound of running water and the occasional off-key singing that was more about enthusiasm than accuracy.
Damien finished plating dinner with the easy skill of someone who’d been doing it long enough that he didn’t need to think about it. He listened to the off-key humming filtering through the wall, feeling that familiar warmth when Oliver was being his loud, unguarded self.
Then, it wasn’t his phone that buzzed.
It was Oliver’s.
His attention sharpened; he knew the password, Oliver’s dad’s birthday, something Oliver had mentioned casually weeks ago and a mix of curiosity and protectiveness bubbled as he glanced toward the bathroom door. The sound of water was still steady in the background. Without a second thought, he unlocked the screen.
He didn’t reach for it.
But he could see the preview on the lock screen without even touching it.
Jeremy🐶: Professor Oliver... I think my brain completely gave up after all those textbooks 😭
Another notification popped up before the first one had even faded away.
Jeremy: Can we meet again tomorrow? I promise I’ll take actual notes this time instead of just staring at your face.
Damien’s grip tightened on the spoon he was holding, his knuckles going white for a moment as jealousy coiled tightly in his stomach.
The third notification showed up as the second was still visible.
Jeremy: Also after the tutoring session tomorrow, do you maybe want to grab lunch? My treat. You’ve earned it for dealing with my dumbass.
For a moment, the kitchen went very quiet.
He set the phone down just as he had found it, his expression shifting to something more calculated and resolute.
Oliver meant too much to him now, the laughter that filled the dorm, the quiet moments of vulnerability, the fierce intelligence that challenged him. Losing even a piece of that to someone like Jeremy was out of the question.
He needed to do something about this, maybe subtly at first, but firm enough to protect what was growing between them.
From the bathroom, Oliver’s voice drifted through the wall, muffled by the running water: "Is that my phone making those sounds? Don’t touch it!"
"...Too late," Damien replied softly, talking to himself.
He wasn’t angry. He recognized that easily, it wasn’t anger or anything heated. It was something cooler. More calculated. That familiar alertness of someone who had picked up on a pattern they’d seen before and was deciding what it meant.
Jeremy Abernathy was not a bad guy. Damien had known him well enough to be sure of that. He was generous and chaotic and surprisingly genuine under all that charm that came from his family name.
He had a way of making everyone feel important without even trying, which was both his best trait and what made it complicated.
Jeremy Abernathy wasn’t a bad guy, but he surely wasn’t a good guy either. There had always been something off about him, especially on the context of Damien.
Damien had long made sure to be very careful around him even as they moved in the same circle of Elites or what ever they were called by the regular people of Hawthorne University.
Oliver, who assumed the best in everyone unless given a reason not to, naturally took sincerity at face value because he was sincere himself, Oliver wouldn’t see the dinner invite as anything but what it seemed.
Just a tutor grabbing a meal with a client, simple.
So he’d go if he had the time.
Damien glanced at the phone screen one last time before the notifications faded and the screen went dark.
He placed the phone back exactly where Oliver had left it.
The apartment was filled with the smell of garlic, butter, and the herbs in the sauce, and from the bathroom came another round of enthusiastic, slightly tragic singing.
Damien stood there for a moment, letting himself feel the weight in his chest that he’d been managing since Oliver had walked in tonight and casually mentioned Jeremy’s name.
It wasn’t jealousy, not really. Or it was, but not the overwhelming kind..
more like a quiet sort that demands careful attention when you realize what you have and start to understand that keeping it requires some work.
He couldn’t jump into conclusions yet...but something was definitely off.
He picked up the plates and carried them to the table, the blue flowers in the vase catching the light just like they always did.
Jeremy hadn’t done anything wrong. Not yet. Asking a tutor to dinner wasn’t crossing any boundaries.
But Damien had known Jeremy long enough, and he was learning enough about Oliver to recognize that some situations can change without anyone even deciding they should.
He heard the shower slow, the singing stopped.
A moment later, Oliver called down the hall, "Is dinner ready? I’m so hungry I could eat a freaking army tank"
"On the table."
"You see? This is why you’re starting to become my favorite person."
Damien smiled as he sat down, the thoughtful atmosphere of the last few minutes warming back into something lighter.
"...I know," he said, softly enough that Oliver probably didn’t catch it.
Whatever Jeremy was up to, he was going to end it before it even began.