Roommates With Benefits [BL]

Chapter 107: Messy in More Ways Than One

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Oliver—" Whack. "Violence—" Whack. "—isn’t—" Whack. "—the answer."

"It is today, asshole!"

I swung again, full force. Unfortunately, my elbow hit a tower of paper cups stacked on the shelf behind me, starting a slow, inevitable collapse that nothing in the room could stop.

The boxes followed the cups, and a bag of coffee beans hit the floor with a heavy thud, bursting open and sending sugar packets flying everywhere like the storeroom suddenly decided to throw confetti for no reason.

Complete, utter silence.

I stared at the mess. Damien stared at the mess. Then he looked back at me.

"..."

"..."

His laughter came roaring back, doubling him over. "Oh my God."

"I didn’t mean to!"

"I know."

"I was aiming for you."

"I noticed."

I groaned and buried my face in my hands. "This is the worst day of my life."

"Oliver," he said, his voice lowering into something softer, though the teasing edge never quite vanished. "You’re adorable when you’re panicking. But come on, you can’t expect me to forget how you lost it in my hands. How you trembled and gasped and looked at me like you wanted more even while denying it."

I backed up until my shoulders hit the wall, my breath uneven. The storeroom felt impossibly small, with shelves closing in on us, the air thick with the scent of coffee beans and whatever cologne Damien was wearing today.

"Why did you even do that?! Do you like me or something? Friends don’t just... get into that kind of stuff in the middle of the night, fucking jerk! Stop acting like it’s normal!"

‎

‎Damien stepped closer, the distance between us shrinking until there was hardly a foot left. His hand reached out, fingers wrapping gently around my wrist, guiding my flailing hand down.

Before I could protest, he pressed me back against the wall with a careful strength, his other hand settling on my hip, thumb tracing slow circles through my shirt that sent shivers through my skin.

I tried to push back, but there was no real force behind it, my body was making its own decisions about staying put.

‎

‎"Shh," he murmured, leaning in so his breath brushed against my ear. "You don’t want the whole café to find out about us, do you? Just relax, sunshine. Breathe."

‎

‎"I am breathing," I grumbled, my heart racing even faster at the stupid nickname and the way his warmth enveloped me. "Barely. And don’t call me that when you’ve got me pinned in here like some kind of... of..."

‎

‎"Like some kind of what?" he teased, tilting his head with a playful grin. His grip on my hip tightened just enough to keep me anchored there, steady and warm.

‎

‎"Like some kind of dumbass who thinks he can just corner me at work after last night," I finished weakly. "Answer the damn question, jerk. Do you like me or something?"

‎

‎Damien’s expression shifted in that moment, the teasing smirk fading into something more genuine, more intense.

He scrutinized my face for what felt like a long time, his gaze tracing over my flushed cheeks, wide eyes...and my lips.

"Wouldn’t you like to know?" he whispered, his voice low, sending a shiver down my spine.

‎

‎I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "That’s not an answer."

‎

‎He leaned in even closer, his forehead nearly touching mine, the hand on my hip moving to my lower back to hold me against him.

"What if I say yes?"

The words hung between us, heavy and electric in that tiny space.

"What happens then, hm?"

‎

‎My mind went blank. I stared up at him, my lips parted, every practiced denial vanishing under the weight of that simple question.

Did...did he just...confess?

Although, it felt like a confession. It wasn’t as blatantly outright as I would have liked.

I wasn’t taking any chances with my heart and feelings.

The storeroom felt warmer, smaller, more intimate than ever. I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against mine, how his fingers flexed on my back like he was afraid I’d run away if he released me.

‎

‎"I... I don’t know," I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

The fight had drained out of me, leaving only confusion and an unsettling warmth spreading through my chest.

‎

‎Damien’s thumb brushed along my jaw, tilting my chin up so I couldn’t look away.

"I enjoyed last night, Oliver. More than I probably should have. The way you responded, the sounds you made, how perfectly you fit under my hands... I want more of this with you...and I know you want it too, whatever it may be. But I won’t push if you’re not ready. Just stop running from me, please."

‎

‎The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard, breaking through the walls of panic I’d built all morning.

It felt safe here with him, even in this dusty storeroom with the soft sounds of the café outside. Safer than I’d felt in a long time, despite how daunting the implications were.

‎

‎Suddenly, a small box of sugar packets tipped over on the shelf beside us, scattering across the floor with a soft clatter. Damien glanced down at the mess and laughed quietly, the sound rumbling through his chest.

"See? Even the inventory agrees you’re a mess right now."

‎

‎"Shut your ass up," I muttered, unable to hide a reluctant smile that tugged at my lips.

‎

‎For another long moment, he stayed close, just holding me there, then pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead.

The gesture was so gentle, so unexpectedly tender, that it left me feeling even more undone than the heated memories of the night before.

Once he finally stepped back, releasing me with obvious reluctance, I felt the absence of his warmth like a physical ache.

‎

‎"Take your time," he said quietly, the teasing smirk returning but softened. "I’ll be out there, waiting. Remember, no more running."

‎

‎I nodded, still leaning against the wall for support as he unlocked the door and slipped out, leaving me alone with the scattered sugar packets and the chaotic whirlwind of my thoughts.

‎

‎I came in here to hide from him, and now I’m pinned against the wall...heart racing, skin still tingling where he touched me, realizing I don’t want him to let go.

The line between friends and something more felt so thin in the lingering warmth of the storeroom. For the first time, I wasn’t sure I wanted to cross back to the other side. Even if playing with this fire could leave me burned.

‎

‎As the café noise filtered back in, I stood there trying to steady my breathing. Maya was definitely going to have questions later, and I still had half a shift to get through.

But all I could think about was the way Damien had looked at me, like I was worth waiting for, worth figuring this out with. That thought was both terrifying and tempting, all at once.

‎

‎I bent down to clean up the spilled sugar, my hands still shaking slightly, but a small, confused smile lingered on my face despite the panic. Whatever this was, it wasn’t going away.

And maybe...I didn’t want it to.

‎