Roommates With Benefits [BL]

Chapter 130: Explain Yourself, Lockwood

•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•✾•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•

The music from the party thudded dully through the walls of the upstairs bedroom, a distant pulse that felt a world away from the tension crackling between us.

My heart raced like crazy as Damien’s lips found mine again, the kiss turning into something messy and urgent, a release for all the frustration and longing I’d been holding onto for far too long.

His lips were warm and persistent, tasting slightly of whatever drink he’d been sipping, and when his tongue brushed against mine, I couldn’t help but let out another soft sound.

Our breaths mingled, hot and heavy, tongues dancing together in a way that grew more intense with each passing moment. I clung tightly to the front of his shirt, my fingers twisting in the fabric like I was scared he’d pull away, while his hands roamed my back, pulling me in closer.

The kiss was all heat and need, our teeth grazing, tongues sliding together in a way that made my head spin, even more than the alcohol had.

Every brush, every slick movement sent electricity racing through me, igniting a fire that threatened to burn away whatever little restraint I still had.

‎

For a fleeting second, I nearly lost sight of why I had dragged him upstairs in the first place. His familiar scent enveloped me...warm cedarwood mixed with that high-end cologne I had, against all odds, memorized.

My tipsy brain almost melted into oblivion and damn, believe when I say I was completely fine with it.

Until...

No.

No!

That wasn’t why I was there. I had real, valid grievances, and I wasn’t about to let the smell of his jacket and this to-die-for kiss distract me from them.

I pushed against his chest. "Fuck off."

Damien blinked, genuinely surprised, and took a step back, hands raised in a gesture of surrender, looking like someone who was trying to comply with a confusing request.

"...Sunshine?"

My breathing hitched. My heart was racing, louder than the bass thumping from the party downstairs. An image of the girl flashed in my mind again...the one who had settled onto his lap with the ease of someone who belonged there, her hand resting against his chest, laughing with a confidence that spoke of never feeling out of place.

The knot in my chest tightened.

My lips felt swollen and tingly, and the room swayed around me as anger and hurt surged forward.

‎

‎Damien leaned back just enough to look me in the eye, his gaze dark and intense in the dim light. He slowly licked his lips, his eyes dropping to my swollen mouth with unmistakable hunger, that signature smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Who was she?" I demanded.

Damien tilted his head, focusing on my expression as if he’d decided it deserved his full attention.

"The girl downstairs, what the hell was all that?" I added, just to make sure he understood.

His blue eyes scanned my face, reading it, processing, and coming to conclusions I could see forming in real-time. Then, shockingly, a slow grin crept onto his lips.

"Is she your girlfriend?" My voice came out sharper than I intended.

"Are you jealous?"

I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

‎That question hit me like a splash of cold water, momentarily knocking the wind out of my drunk tirade. I stared at him, my face burning, before defensiveness kicked in.

Because the worst part was that I couldn’t deny it. Even tipsy and my thoughts swirling, I knew that any attempt to deny it wouldn’t hold up. The evidence was standing right there in front of him, wearing my face, with red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks...whatever stupid expression I had at that moment.

So I just glared at him with everything I had.

"Who. Is. She. To you?"

Damien crossed his arms, the smile settling in with the smugness of someone who’s gotten the answer they wanted without actually receiving it.

"Aww." He took a deliberate step toward me. "Sunshine..."

"Don’t—"

"...you are jealous."

"I am not—" I started, but the denial died on my tongue because even my tipsy ass brain knew it was a lie.

The image of that girl sitting on his lap, laughing and leaning in close, kept flashing through my mind, twisting something ugly and possessive in my chest.

His laughter filled the room—warm and unfiltered and completely unwarranted—and it made me hate that I could tell the difference between his real laugh and the one he put on for show. The real one was even worse.

"I hate you," I muttered.

"No, you don’t."

"I really, genuinely do."

"No."

"I absolutely—"

"You don’t."

"Stop interrupting my hatred."

"I’ll think about it."

"You’re the worst."

"Consistently."

I stepped back again when he reached for me.

"No, stay back! You dumb liar. If she’s nobody, why did you let her get that close? You were just sitting there letting her practically drape herself all over you while I was right there watching."

I rubbed my hands over my face, letting out a groan that felt deep and tired. "You still haven’t answered my question."

Damien’s expression softened a bit. Not completely, though—he still had that glimmer of amusement, just quieter now. "She’s nobody."

I frowned. "...Nobody?"

"Just someone I’ve met a few times. It’s not what you think."

"Then why was she sitting on your lap like it was her favorite seat?"

He shrugged lightly, but I noticed how he avoided my gaze, which made me realize something new.

"If I didn’t know better," I said, my tone softening, "I’d think you both were dating with the way you let her drape herself all over you."

"We’re not."

"She was right there—!"

He began walking toward me again, slowly and carefully, like someone trying to navigate around something delicate. "You’ve had enough to drink."

"I’m perfectly—" The room swayed just a little. "—balanced."

I stumbled over the carpet for no apparent reason.

Damien caught my arm just before I fell, his grip firm. I yanked it back as soon as I was stable again.

"I didn’t need your help."

His shoulders shook with laughter. I pointed at him, trying to sound authoritative.

"No laughing. And no hugging."

"I wasn’t—"

"You were about to."

"I was just saving you from hitting the floor."

"I would’ve been fine."

"The floor has a good track record."

"Stay back." I pointed more forcefully. "You lying idiot."

The laughter faded.

The smile disappeared just like that, replaced by a serious expression, Damien had shifted into the mode where he truly paid attention.

The room fell quiet, too quiet, especially with a party going on two floors below.

My vision blurred.

Not just from the alcohol.

Because, apparently, my eyes decided this was the moment to fill with tears. It was embarrassing, and I knew it was embarrassing, but that didn’t change what was happening.

"... Oliver?"

His voice was softer, a different tone, using the nickname without any teasing.

"If she’s nobody—" I steadied my voice. "If she’s nobody, then w...why did you let her get that close?"