Chapter 84: Wake Up And Choose Violence
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The first thing I felt when I woke up was warmth.
Not the usual kind of warmth, the kind you get after piling on enough blankets to feel somewhat cozy.
Nope, this was a deep, suspiciously pleasant warmth that suggested I’d had a really good night’s sleep, and my body was entirely pleased about it in a way that surprised me.
And why is that weird, you ask?
I think it’s because I hadn’t slept that well since I was a fucking preteen.
For a few blissful seconds, I lingered in that dreamlike space between sleep and wakefulness, where consciousness hasn’t fully taken hold yet. My body felt great.
There was no tension in my muscles, no aches from carrying too much for too long. My mind wasn’t already gearing up for the day ahead, calculating sleep hours, to-do lists, and the usual panic about being short on time.
Honestly, it was so unusual that I should’ve recognized it as a warning sign.
But then I made the huge mistake of opening my eyes.
Consciousness hit me all at once, like my brain had been waiting for me to wake up and suddenly had a whole lot to say.
Something heavy was draped across my waist. A sizable something, warm, solid, human-shaped something that definitely wasn’t there when I fell asleep...well, it had been nearby, but not quite like this.
Um, what the hell?
My body froze, reacting much like a system that detects a major error and needs a moment to process the situation.
Slowly, with the dread of someone who fears the worst, I glanced down.
An arm.
A strong, unmistakably real arm, wrapped around my middle like it belonged there, comfortable and satisfied.
My brain went blank. Just stopped, like a computer freezing up during a critical task.
I could feel warmth radiating from my back. Specifically, the warmth of Damien, with his strong legs tangled with mine under the covers, as if he’d just shifted over to find a cozy spot during the night...
And somehow decided that the space in between my legs was the perfect place for him?
His steady breathing caressed my neck, slow and relaxed, the kind of breathing that told me he was completely at ease, oblivious to the chaos he was causing in my mind.
The scent of his cologne, fresh and clean, a fragrance I could identify even in dim light and half-asleep states, enveloped me from every direction.
I stared.
For what felt like an eternity but was probably just three seconds.
No, my brain finally caught up with itself. No, no, no, no—!
Holy fuck! This was not happening!
I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again. The arm was still there, so was Damien. The entire situation persisted, indifferent to my protests...warm, cozy, and absolutely not something I was ready to analyze.
He was still asleep, I could tell by his breathing, slow and content, completely unaware that he was wreaking havoc on my nervous system like he always did.
He had even unlocked the ability to do it in his sleep! Oh my God!
Heat flooded my face, like a switch had been flipped. Every point of contact felt amplified, the arm around my waist, the warmth at my back, the slight brush of his jaw against my hair, which I had to think about later but wasn’t ready to think about right now.
A small, rational voice in my head tried to intervene. Technically, this isn’t his fault, people move in their sleep...hell, I was known to kick people as a kid while asleep. It’s completely normal.
Totally... fucking...normal...
But that voice was drowned out by the chorus of my thoughts, which had been on high alert all night and were now in full-blown panic mode.
I LET THIS MAN INTO MY BED!
That thought snapped whatever magic had me frozen, and I reacted with all the poise of someone who’d just discovered their roommate had turned into a barnacle overnight.
"AHHHHH—!!!"
The scream tore out of me, and without thinking, I shoved with both hands, full force, the kind of shove that says, "I’ve made a decision on zero braincells, and it’s happening now."
The results were immediate and loud.
One moment, Damien was comfortably in my bed. The next, there was a hefty THUD!
The unmistakable sound of a large person unexpectedly hitting the hardwood floor, followed by a stunned silence and then a groan that landed somewhere between confusion and pain.
I shot upright, my heart racing like it was trying to break a record, my face felt like it was on fire. The blankets had tangled around my legs, suggesting I was somehow part of the mess from the night before...filing that detail under not thinking about this.
Damien was on the floor, sprawled out, staring at the ceiling with that look people have when they wake up in an unfamiliar place and are trying to figure out how they got there.
He blinked at the ceiling. Then at me. Then back to the floor and finally, he looked at me again, with the kind of patience you use when conducting an investigation but all your suspects were completely dumb.
"Why... am I down here?"
His voice was rough from sleep, deeper than usual in that way voices get when waking up, I flushed as usual. I was definitely not processing that...yet.
"Y–you were too fucking close!"
His eyebrows knitted together. "What does that even mean?"
"Too. Close." I pointed at him, then at the floor, and back to him again as though presenting evidence. "You were practically attached to me—!"
"I was asleep."
"And you were spooning me, Damien! I—"
The word landed heavily in the room, and we both just sat there, staring at it for a moment.
Damien rubbed his eyes with one hand, still sitting on the floor, still looking like his brain was processing things slowly. Then, with the kind of timing that suggested he’d found the most inconvenient response possible, he grinned, on the floor, at seven in the morning, having just been unceremoniously pushed off a bed, he smiled.
"Most people say good morning first."
I grabbed the nearest pillow.
He raised both hands in surrender. "Violence isn’t the answer."
"I beg to differ."
"You didn’t seem to mind it last night."
My soul left my body for the second time in about four minutes, a new personal record.
Somebody call Guinness!
"I FORGOT YOU WERE THERE—"
"You knew when you fell asleep."
"That’s a completely different situation—!"
"How so?"
"Because I was unconscious. I had no control! I couldn’t object—"
"Neither could I."
"You—" I stopped, opened and closed my mouth a couple of times. My argument drove itself into a corner with nowhere to go, and Damien watched my struggle with what could only be described as quiet amusement.
He pushed himself up from the floor, moving like someone whose body was cooperating only under duress, and then he winced, a quick flash of pain that he quickly masked.
My eyes widened and all my irritation suddenly vanished without warning. "You hit your head."
"I’m fine."
His response came too quickly and with too little thought for someone who just collided with a hardwood floor from a bed’s height.
"You hit your head," I repeated softly, not asking this time.
"Really, I’m okay, Oliver."
"Shit, I’m so sorry. Sit down, lemme look at it."
"I don’t need to—"
"Sit."
He looked at me, and I returned his gaze with the kind of look that said a negotiation wasn’t happening. After a moment, he conceded and sat on the edge of the bed, clearly going along with it.
"Yes, Mom," he said, grinning at me.
"I hate you."
"You say that at least six times a day."
"Because you earn it at least six times a day." I stood up and took a good look at his head. I gently ran my fingers through his soft, dark hair, they were no bumps there, thank God...
Just a little headache, perhaps.
I headed to the kitchen and realized that the power was back on, I grabbed some water and painkillers from the cupboard, then came back and handed them to him.
He eyed the offering, and then his expression shifted, something genuine flickered there for a moment. "You didn’t have to do this."
"I pushed you off the bed. It felt like the least I could do."
"You screamed first."
"Also the least I could do."
He took the water. I watched him swallow the pills, his face betraying more discomfort than he was willing to admit. The whole scene felt oddly warm in a domestic way, something I cataloged quickly under NEVER THINK ABOUT THIS and locked away.
Not to mention, I kinda have a girlfriend too now?
"You know," Damien said, setting the glass down, "most people don’t launch surprise attacks before breakfast."
"Most people don’t migrate across the mattress and attach themselves to other people in their sleep."
"I was cold."
"You had half the blanket, what more did you need? My body heat too?"
"Yes." he chirped.
I glared at him, there was no way with this guy at all. Why the heck did I turn gay for person like him again?