Chapter 95: Oops, I Think I’ve Fallen In Love
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A weak laugh escaped her, brittle and unconvinced. "Honestly, I was starting to think you might be a virgin. Wait, are you?"
My eyes widened. "I’m not," I blurted out before I could even think.
Melanie blinked. "Oh."
The silence that followed was somehow worse than the one before it.
"Well." She looked away, anywhere but at me. "That actually... makes this worse."
"Melanie—"
"Because now I really don’t get it." she ran her hands through her hair in frustration. "Then why did you run off like that?"
The guilt returned, stronger this time, settling somewhere deeper inside me, hard to shake off.
"I...I wasn’t trying to hurt you," I said.
"I know." Her reply came too quickly, the speed of someone who’d been up all night convincing herself of that very thing. "I know you’re not that kind of person, Oliver. You could barely hurt a fly..."
That made it worse somehow. Because she was right. I wasn’t trying to hurt her. Yet here I was, doing exactly that, time and again, through distraction and now this.
Melanie crossed her arms, holding herself tightly, and when she spoke again, her voice was quieter, smaller.
"But, do you know what the hardest part is?"
I didn’t answer, mostly because I was scared of what might come next.
"I feel like I’m always the one trying." The words came out raw, without any pretense. "I ask you on dates!"
My stomach twisted.
"I always hug and kiss you first!"
Twist.
"I call you! "
Twist.
"I text you good morning every single day."
Twist.
"And every time we’re together—You never seem completely there, and the excuse is always the same. You’ve got ’a lot of things going on.’"
Her voice cracked just a bit as it got louder when voicing out her frustrations. "There’s always something else in your mind. I know it’s hard for you and all with your dad sick in the hospital, school and work. But I hate having to fight for your attention! I endured it because I really like you...but now I just can’t take it anymore!"
I looked away because I couldn’t deny that. Not honestly, not anymore, not after last night, not after replaying it in my head all night long.
"Melanie, I—"
"Do you even like me? Like at all?"
The question hit hard, direct and vulnerable, and before I could find an answer, she asked the one I’d been avoiding for weeks.
"Or is there someone else?"
My whole body froze up. Panic surged through me fast and completely, not because of what she asked, but because of the answer that sprang to mind unbidden, something I hadn’t granted permission for. An image of Damien flashed across my mind, betraying me.
My silence stretched on just a bit too long, Melanie’s face fell.
"Oh my God, I can’t believe you! Have you been seeing someone else behind my back?!"
"No," I said quickly, almost too quickly, desperation creeping into my voice, not helpful at all. "There isn’t anyone else. I haven’t been with anyone except you, I promise!"
Isn’t there?
The question clanged in my mind with a force that scared me even more than this conversation, more than Melanie’s red eyes, more than anything.
The bedroom door swung open and both of us turned.
Damien walked into the living room, looking like he’d just woken up thirty seconds ago. His hair was a complete mess, somehow both unkempt and somehow stylish.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and despite all this, despite stepping into a messy situation without any context...he still managed to look irritatingly composed.
His gaze flitted between us, taking in everything in one sweeping look: the tension, the faint redness in Melanie’s eyes, my expression that surely looked guilty. The thick silence that hung there like an elephant in the room.
His jaw tightened, his eyes firmly locked on Melanie. "Is there a problem here?"
His tone stayed steady, calm, but there was an underlying protectiveness that hadn’t been there before, and it made my stomach lurch at the worst time.
Fuck...why oh why had I gone and put myself into this messy situation?
What do I even do right now?
Melanie picked up on it, too. I watched her straighten a bit, her eyes widening, her focus darting between us as if she was piecing together a puzzle in real-time.
Understanding flickered across her face, not certainty, not outright blame, just a possibility quietly taking shape.
And somehow, that felt worse than if she had just asked directly.
She swallowed hard and looked back at me, her expression exhausted in a way that went beyond a simple sleepless night.
"When you’re ready to actually talk to me," she said, "you know where to find me."
Then she turned and walked out, her steps quick and determined, and a second later the front door shut behind her with a sound that wasn’t quite a slam but still felt heavy.
Silence descended over the apartment, thick and complete. The type of quiet that fills every corner of a room once something true has finally been said out loud, leaving no room to backtrack.
I stood there staring at the closed door for what felt like an eternity, guilt swirling in my gut. Because I had hurt her. Because she deserved better than my half-hearted attention split between her and a thought I wouldn’t confront.
Because she was worth someone who could give their whole heart openly, and somewhere along the way, I had quietly, gradually lost the ability to promise that, maybe even without realizing I never could have in the first place.
And the worst part, the part I knew I’d have to sit with for a while...was that I was now sure my heart even belonged to me anymore, to give to anyone.
Instead it belong to...
Slowly, I became aware of Damien still standing just a few feet away. Watching, waiting not pushing for answers or filling the silence with anything demanding from me.
Just there.
The same way he had always been lately, present without being intrusive, steady in a way I’d come to rely on amid all the chaos.
The weight of everything crashed into me all at once...Melanie. The relationship I just witnessed dissolve right in my living room, the growing confusion I’d been trying to outrun for weeks.
The shared bed, the comfort, the warmth that had been trailing along with me through days like a borrowed something I just stopped trying to return.
The man just a few feet away, half-dressed and barely awake but somehow exactly the person I wanted in the room during this awful conversation.
Just friends?
Fuck...yeah right.
He wasn’t just a friend, I was a fool for convincing myself otherwise.