Chapter 31: Oliver Reyes vs. Unexpected Homosexuality
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Then came the cheering, it was loud, drunken, wildly enthusiastic cheering that hit the door like a tidal wave.
"SEVEN MINUTES!"
"KISS HIM!"
"DON’T COME OUT TOO FAST!"
A laugh erupted from somewhere...so aggressive it struck me as worrisome, before the muffled bass of the party swallowed us whole again, leaving me alone in complete darkness with the one person I really didn’t want to be stuck in a tiny space with.
Great...just fantastic. What a wonderful twist in an evening that had been going so smoothly.
For a terrifying moment, neither of us moved.
The closet was tiny. Way too tiny. Less like a room and more like a space someone had jammed cleaning supplies into and called it a day. I could feel my shoulder brush against a coat hanging nearby, and somewhere at my feet, I nearly stepped on what I hoped was a shoe and not someone’s forgotten pet rat.
More importantly, Damien was way too close.
Not close like two people at a party, but close as in a space clearly designed for coats, not people. There was no way to pretend there was any distance at all, and I could feel his warmth without trying, completely helpless to do anything about it.
I could sense the heat radiating off him in the dark. His cologne, something fresh and pricey that was all too well chosen, mingled with the faint scent of alcohol and whatever soap rich people used. All of it crowded in on me, the closet transforming into a sensory overload I hadn’t signed up for.
Not to mention how he easily towered over me...but this was not the time to talk about my height.
My heart was pounding embarrassingly loud, so loud, in fact, I was genuinely worried he could hear it. That would be catastrophic for my dignity, on top of everything else.
Not that I was nervous.
"Nope," I blurted out, maybe a bit too quickly. "Absolutely fucking not. We’re not doing this."
He as usual...responded with silence, complete, immediate, utterly useless silence.
I swallowed hard. The darkness somehow made his presence feel even more intense, which shouldn’t have been possible, but there you go.
Outside, there had been lights, people, and noises...things to look at that weren’t him. In here, it was just his breathing, the subtle shifts of his body in the dark, and the overwhelming sense of how little space there was between us.
Why was he always so quiet? Everywhere. All the time. Even in a moment that called for some kind of response, he just stood there, breathing at me as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
"Okay," I continued, trying to fill the silence because leaving it hanging felt risky. "Look, we don’t actually need to do anything. We can just stand here for seven minutes like two normal adults and walk out. People lie about what goes on in these closets all the time. That’s practically a rule of this game, a foundational principle. It’s basically tradition."
Still nothing from this guy.
I shifted a bit, finally finding some relief leaning against the wall behind me.
"This game is dumb anyway," I carried on, my voice falling into that nervous rhythm that I couldn’t quite control. "Seriously, seven minutes in heaven? What does that even mean? Why seven? Not five, not ten, nothing that makes sense. Just a random number someone made up, and now we’re stuck here."
I let out a weak laugh, smaller than I intended.
"This feels less like heaven and more like a psychological experiment."
The muffled music outside pulsed steadily through the walls, indifferent to my plight, while I spiraled deeper into what was shaping up to be one of the worst nervous rants I’d ever given.
"Melanie thinks this is hilarious," I said, mostly to keep talking to pass the time since he was incapable of a normal conversation . "She pushed me to come in here! After I trusted her for twenty minutes. That’s a quick betrayal."
Silence again.
I could almost feel Damien’s gaze in the dark, which made absolutely no sense but was undeniable.
Naturally, I started talking more.
"And for the record," I rushed out, the words tumbling from my mouth, "I meant what I said out there. I don’t like guys. Not now, not historically, not in this closet. So everyone can relax because there’s genuinely zero chance of anything happening here."
The second those words left my mouth, the air in the closet felt different.
Tighter, warmer. My throat went dry in that annoying way you only realize when your body knows something your brain hasn’t caught up to yet.
Why did it suddenly feel like the atmosphere had changed?
I shifted again, which was clearly a mistake, because moving in a space this small meant I accidentally edged closer to him...closer to Damien’s arm.
My shoulder brushed against his for about a second.
Every muscle in my body locked up.
"Sorry," I mumbled, the word slipping out smaller than I’d wanted.
Damien still hadn’t uttered a single word. He stood there in this cramped dark space with me like it didn’t require any effort, like the whole situation had no emotional weight for him, while I was the only one losing it.
I was genuinely considering the ceiling as an escape route at that point. Raccoon style. Whatever it took.
"So," I tried again, because my brain seemed to think silence was a threat and had to be mitigated at all costs, "we can just wait this out. Simple. No complications. No touching, no kissing, no memories I’ll need therapy for later—"
Then Damien moved.
Fast. Out of nowhere, not even a warning, no signals that something was about to happen.
One moment, there was a somewhat bearable distance between us.The next, I was pushed against the wall.
The impact knocked the rest of my sentence right out of my head. My breath hitched in my throat as a hand gripped my waist firmly, pinning me in place with a clarity that left no room for misinterpretation about what was going down.
My eyes went wide in the dark.
"What the—"
I didn’t finish the thought.
Damien pressed his lips against mine.
And my brain, which had been humming along at a tense but manageable pace all night, just shut down.
Not slowed down. Not stuttered. Just stopped completely. Every thought I was having...my dad at the hospital, the café shift, the seven minutes, Melanie, Joey laughing on the floor...vanished in an instant, like someone erased the whiteboard in one swipe.
The kiss was hard. Unyielding, like he’d made a choice somewhere along the way and had just been waiting for the right moment to act. His body pressed against mine, solid, warm and one hand at my waist and the other against the wall next to my head.
I froze, completely, utterly frozen, eyes wide open, brain still trying to catch up, the processing lagging a few seconds behind.
What—
WHAT?!
I pushed against his chest in a panic, a reflexive move, but he didn’t budge. Not one inch. It was like I was pushing against a brick wall, my gesture noted, but filed away under ’irrelevant.’
That was infuriating on a whole new level, and I would definitely be circling back to this.
There was not fucking way this was happening! This better be a fucking nightmare!!!
Somebody pinch me now!
