Chapter 28: So My Roommate Has a Staring Problem
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Incredible. A true masterpiece of a verbal response, after years of schooling, that’s what I came up with.
Honestly it would truly be a divine miracle if I actually ended up with a girlfriend at this point.
She laughed at my expression, and I felt heat creeping up my neck like something that had been hanging around, just waiting for an excuse.
Fantastic, now I was blushing.
Like someone who’d never been complimented before... which wasn’t true, but my face apparently didn’t get the memo.
"Wow," Melanie said, clearly delighted. "You actually get flustered."
"I’m choosing not to dignify that with a response."
"That means yes."
"It means I’m exercising my right to silence."
"It definitely means yes."
Before I could muster a comeback, something shifted. Not dramatically, just a subtle awareness crawling up the back of my neck... the feeling of being observed.
I frowned slightly, glancing across the room instinctively and locked eyes with... drumroll please...!
Damien.
Of course, I fought the urge to roll my eyes, only he would glare at me from across the room for doing absolutely nothing.
He was over on the other side of the living room, surrounded by people who looked like they’d been casted by a director. Dressed expensively, exuding easy confidence, and enjoying the gravity of people who’ve never questioned if they belong.
Several girls were hanging around him like old friends, one touching his arm, another laughing at something he said brightly. One brunette had her hand casually resting against his chest, like she’d already claimed that territory.
He held himself with that same cold confidence, existing just at the edge of the noise, untouched by chaos.
But the girls weren’t the unusual part.
The weird part was that he wasn’t paying attention to any of them.
Not a single one.
His icy blue gaze was fixed directly on me. Or more precisely...on me and Melanie, moving between us with an expression that was still unreadable but felt different than usual. It carried more weight than his typical detached assessments.
That look landed like a weight, cold and heavy, slicing through the noise and people around us with a clarity that was baffling, given how much he usually tried to ignore my presence.
I frowned without thinking.
What the fuck was his issue?
Melanie followed my gaze, glanced across the room, and raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"Oh," she said slowly. "That guy’s been staring over here for a while."
I blinked. "What do you mean, a while?"
"Like." She tilted her head slightly. "A notable amount of time. Intensely."
My confusion sharpened into something more, mostly irritation. Because this was the same person who had spent two weeks treating my existence like a mild nuisance he was graciously putting up with, who had a strict no-friends policy and communicated primarily through sighs and somehow, now he was here, surrounded by people vying for his attention, yet focusing solely on me instead.
Make it make sense! I genuinely want to understand!
I glanced back across the room just in time to see one of the girls beside him laughing and touching his shoulder, leaning in slightly, making a clear play for his attention.
He didn’t flinch, didn’t even glance at her.
His focus remained locked on me.
A strange, frustrated twist knotted in my chest that I didn’t have the energy to unpack and didn’t want to think about right now.
He was standing in a crowd of people who were genuinely interested in him, and he was glaring at me from across a frat party because I was talking to a girl. That was exactly what was happening. That was the reality.
Wait, oh my God.
Did he know Melanie?!
Was I standing next to someone he liked? Had I accidentally wandered into something without a map? Was this about to become a whole situation?
The thought nearly made me laugh out loud, even if it felt inappropriate considering Damien still looked genuinely displeased about something, and I didn’t want to see what would happen when he got unhappy at a party.
"Do you know him?" Melanie asked, watching my expression with the curious intensity of a psychology major looking for data.
I let out a short, tired laugh. "Unfortunately, he’s my roommate."
She laughed, though I would have enjoyed it more if Damien’s stare across the room didn’t feel like a hand on my shoulder, that same prickly awareness that refused to fade, lingering at the edges of everything like background noise with an attitude.
It was absurd. Objectively absurd. Damien couldn’t stand me on a regular day. I even had laminated documentation to prove it and here I was, struggling to ignore that he was watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite understand.
Which made no sense.
Which I didn’t want to spend more time dissecting.
Which I was definitely thinking about anyway. Melanie nudged my arm lightly. "You okay?"
"Yes," I said, with the determination of someone who decided that was the answer and was sticking to it. "Just trying to figure out my roommate’s behavior patterns. It’s an ongoing project."
"I think he’s jealous of you making friends," she said simply, as if it were a reasonable deduction.
I turned to face her. "I’m sorry?"
She raised both of her eyebrows, looking at me with the poise of someone delivering an observation, not a wild theory. "The staring. It’s pretty intense for someone who supposedly can’t stand you."
"No," I immediately replied, almost too quickly. "That’s— no! Absolutely not. Damien Lockwood is not the jealous type. He has a strict no-friendship rule. He’s the opposite of jealous. He would need to care about something to be jealous, and caring about things isn’t in his character profile."
Melanie didn’t say anything.
She just looked at me with a mildly amused, patient expression, like she’d asked me a question and heard an answer that revealed more than I intended to share.
I slowly became aware that I had just delivered a long-winded monologue about Damien’s emotional unavailability with what might be an unusual amount of detail and passion.
I took a sip of my drink, trying to regain composure.
Melanie smiled into hers, clearly entertained.
Before I could let my brain wander into territory I didn’t want to explore, the music dipped in volume, and someone near the center of the room shouted with the enthusiasm of someone who’d waited all night for their cue.
"ALRIGHT MOTHERFUCKERS!"
Cheers erupted from every corner, the crowd shifting with sudden energy.
I already knew that tone. Nothing good had ever followed that tone.
The party host stood proudly atop the staircase railing, grinning like someone who thought this was a brilliant idea.
"TIME FOR SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN!"
The whole room erupted, immediately and without hesitation.
"Oh my God," Melanie laughed beside me, the sound bright and slightly disbelieving.
Joey appeared from somewhere in the crowd, holding two fresh drinks and wearing the expression of someone whose night had just taken a turn for the better. "YES! FINALLY! This is why I come to these things."
"You come to these things because you lack self-preservation instincts," I shot back.
"You know me too well, my dear." He handed me one of the drinks and turned toward the gathering crowd, watching intently. "This is going to be epic. I can just feel it."
People began to crowd toward the center of the room, someone already dragging a chair into place and producing an empty bottle with dramatic flair. The crowd organized itself around the spectacle, like people who’d done this before and had strong opinions about the rules.
Melanie turned to me, her smile carrying a hint of anticipation, her eyes bright under the soft lights, warm and vibrant in a way that twisted my stomach in the best way possible despite the fatigue and chaos all around.