Vivienne
I'm not panicking.
I mean, yes, I'm lying in Damien Ashford's bed. Arm around his waist. My head basically tucked into his neck. And his hoodie smells like him, like lazy pine and that damn expensive cologne he never admits to buying.
But I'm not panicking.
Okay maybe I'm panicking.
Because he didn't push me away.
He always grumbles when I sneak into his space like this. Says I'm clingy. Calls me names. Pokes my forehead until I roll off.
But this time?
Nothing.
Actually worse than nothing.
He let me.
No. He wrapped his arm around me like it was instinct.
Like I belonged there.
Cue internal screaming.
I sip my coffee—still black, still terrible, still a crime against humanity—and focus on not combusting. My fingers are cold so I sneak them under his hoodie, mostly because I can and also because warmth. (Fine. And maybe to see if he'd flinch.)
He doesn't.
His arm tightens just a little, like it's no big deal, like I haven't spent the last twenty-four hours thinking I ruined everything with my jealousy tantrum.
I feel him breathe in. Deep. Steady.
And all I can think is—Is this how it's supposed to feel?
Warm. Safe. Effortless.
Because I'm supposed to be getting over him. I said I was gonna stop being ridiculous. I literally forced myself to choke down bitter coffee and stay chill like some background character in his life.
But now he's holding me like this. Not saying a word. And the silence is comfortable. Familiar.
Dangerous.
I peek up at him.
His eyes are still half-lidded, jaw sharp and unfairly perfect, hair a mess, and hoodie slouching off one shoulder.
And I'm losing my mind.
"What?" he murmurs, catching me staring.
"Nothing," I say quickly, taking another sip of pain-coffee.
He raises an eyebrow.
I grin, poking his side. "You're warm. You should share that with society."
"You are society."
My heart stumbles. "Damn right."
He says nothing else. Just looks at me like I'm something he's trying not to stare too hard at.
And suddenly, I'm not tired anymore.
Because Damien Ashford didn't push me away.
And I… I think I'm in trouble.This Boy Is Gonna Be the Death of Me
Vivienne
I'm not panicking.
I mean, yes, I'm lying in Damien Ashford's bed. Arm around his waist. My head basically tucked into his neck. And his hoodie smells like him, like lazy pine and that damn expensive cologne he never admits to buying.
But I'm not panicking.
Okay maybe I'm panicking.
Because he didn't push me away.
He always grumbles when I sneak into his space like this. Says I'm clingy. Calls me names. Pokes my forehead until I roll off.
But this time?
Nothing.
Actually worse than nothing.
He let me.
No. He wrapped his arm around me like it was instinct.
Like I belonged there.
Cue internal screaming.
I sip my coffee—still black, still terrible, still a crime against humanity—and focus on not combusting. My fingers are cold so I sneak them under his hoodie, mostly because I can and also because warmth. (Fine. And maybe to see if he'd flinch.)
He doesn't.
His arm tightens just a little, like it's no big deal, like I haven't spent the last twenty-four hours thinking I ruined everything with my jealousy tantrum.
I feel him breathe in. Deep. Steady.
And all I can think is—Is this how it's supposed to feel?
Warm. Safe. Effortless.
Because I'm supposed to be getting over him. I said I was gonna stop being ridiculous. I literally forced myself to choke down bitter coffee and stay chill like some background character in his life.
But now he's holding me like this. Not saying a word. And the silence is comfortable. Familiar.
Dangerous.
I peek up at him.
His eyes are still half-lidded, jaw sharp and unfairly perfect, hair a mess, and hoodie slouching off one shoulder.
And I'm losing my mind.
"What?" he murmurs, catching me staring.
"Nothing," I say quickly, taking another sip of pain-coffee.
He raises an eyebrow.
I grin, poking his side. "You're warm. You should share that with society."
"You are society."
My heart stumbles. "Damn right."
He says nothing else. Just looks at me like I'm something he's trying not to stare too hard at.
And suddenly, I'm not tired anymore.
Because Damien Ashford didn't push me away.
And I… I think I'm in trouble.