Chapter 33: Oliver Reyes vs. The Aftermath
•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•✾•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•
My face felt like it was on fire. My legs were sort of working, but they were definitely sending in their complaints. I tried to step out of the closet without making direct eye contact, all while wrestling with the thought that just a few seconds earlier, Damien Lockwood had kissed me so fiercely that it nearly scrambled my brain for life.
My lips were still buzzing.
Which was, frankly, incredibly rude.
I briefly pressed my hand over my mouth, then quickly pulled it away, realizing that was a terrible idea. Instead, I rubbed my face, silently hoping the floor might open up and swallow me out of pity, but the floor, just like everyone else in that room, wasn’t on my side.
"Wow," Melanie said, standing next to me, her grin practically radiating joy as someone who’d just witnessed something magnificent. "You’re so red! That must’ve been some seven minutes."
I nearly choked and that only made her laugh harder. Great.
Seriously, why was everyone so amused? Why was my misery so entertaining? What had I done to deserve this room full of people so thrilled about watching my mental breakdown?
Meanwhile, Damien stood there looking perfectly composed, which felt downright offensive. His face was all calm and detached, icy blue eyes revealing nothing, like he hadn’t just kissed me in a closet hard enough to mess with my whole reality.
Meanwhile, I looked like I had gone through something traumatic. Emotionally, still up for debate.
Melanie tilted her head slightly, her blonde hair cascading over one shoulder, watching me with a knowing look that clearly said she had plenty to say about what she’d just seen.
I opened my mouth, then closed it. I had no defenses left. My brain was running on fumes, desperately trying to keep up.
Behind us, Joey was laughing so hard his whole body shook, the kind of laugh that seemed to have skipped the sound barrier entirely, one hand on someone’s shoulder for balance, his eyes glistening.
"I hate all of you equally," I informed the room, mustering what little conviction I had. "Without exception."
No one cared. The party rolled on in loud, chaotic waves, with people tossing playful jabs our way as if they’d found some hidden treasure.
"Round two!"
"Get married already!"
"Damien finally found someone who talks more than he does!"
That last one hit a little too close to home.
I pressed my fingers against my forehead and took a slow breath.
Melanie moved a little closer, her expression soft and genuine, a change from her teasing demeanor.
"Well," she said lightly, "for what it’s worth, I still think you’re really cute."
My brain short-circuited for an entirely different reason.
"Oh," I said, smartly.
A stellar response. Clearly a grand showcase of my skills. She chuckled softly, not in a mean way. "You’re kind of adorable when you’re flustered."
When was the last time someone had flirted with me like that? Not just joking, but genuinely, with a warm smile? I honestly couldn’t recall, and the fact that it was happening right now...when my nerves were already shooting off the charts, felt like the universe was playing a trick on me.
The chaos in my head quieted just enough for me to work up a small, slightly crooked smile.
"Thanks," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "I think."
"You think?" she teased.
"I’m processing a lot of information at the moment. My gratitude function is slightly delayed."
That made her laugh again, warm and easy, and somewhere beneath all the chaos, I realized that her laughter was nice. It felt normal, uncomplicated, nothing that sent my heart racing.
𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺
Unlike...well, you know.
Melanie pulled out her phone, eyebrow raised. "So are you going to...like, give me your number, or are you planning to spiral emotionally for the rest of the night instead?"
I blinked, a pretty girl asked for my nimber. Right...normal...simple. A pretty girl interested in me, asking a direct question. This should be easy. This made sense.
Unlike—out of nowhere, I felt a warm pressure against my lower back.
I stiffened instantly.
A hand. Firm, brief, guiding. It settled against me with a casual confidence that felt unnervingly deliberate.
Damien.
I didn’t turn to look; I didn’t need to. My body, having spent the last two weeks cataloging his every motion without alerting me, recognized him before my mind could even catch up. It was immediate, definitive, and information I really didn’t want to receive at the moment.
He moved in closer, which was a choice, given the crowd around us. A deliberate, unnecessary choice.
Too close, then I caught Damien’s gaze drifting toward Melanie.
It was the kind of look that held intensity. Measured and cold, but also somehow possessive in a way that felt completely unwarranted toward a girl he didn’t even know. It said mine without needing to articulate a single word.
Damn dude, if you like her so much...why don’t you ask her out and see who she picks instead of being weird?
Melanie’s smile didn’t fade, but it did shift slightly, recalibrating as she sensed the change in his focus, her warmth pulling back just a notch.
The tension in the air between us thickened.
He had nine rules to back that up, one of them prominently displayed. He had given me a blanket once, and we had both agreed to pretend it never happened.
So why did his hand on my back feel like a declaration?
I shoved that thought into a deep pit of denial and locked it up tight. Not unpacking that tonight. Probably not ever. We were leaving it right there.
I cleared my throat, handed Melanie my phone and got her number with the urgency of someone trying to finish a transaction while a natural disaster unfolded in the background.
"There," I said. "Now you can keep watching my mental breakdown live."
"I’m genuinely looking forward to it," she replied, her smile back, warm and direct, completely ignoring Damien, which was commendable.
"Oliver."
Damien’s voice was low and quiet, right beside my ear. I stiffened, would you believe it if I said this was the first time he said my name?
I felt it all the way down my spine before my brain could comprehend it. I turned toward him with the careful hesitancy of someone approaching something they weren’t sure about.
"What is it?"
His expression was a hard mask. It rarely gave anything away, yet tonight it seemed to reveal a bit more without changing at all.