28. Damon
Damon
The charcoal smudges my fingers as I drag it across the paper, the rough texture catching on every stroke. I’ve been sitting at this bench for the better part of an hour, my earbuds in and the world shut out, letting my hands move on autopilot.
It’s only when I stop to look at the lines and shapes taking form that I realize what I’ve been drawing.
Roman.
His sharp jawline, the mess of his dark hair, the way his lips curl into that cocky, infuriating smirk, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. And his eyes—fuck, those eyes that have me drowning in them.
I stare at the sketch, my chest tightening. I didn’t even mean to draw him, but here he is, staring back at me from the page like he’s taken root in my mind and doesn’t plan on leaving.
I’m falling too hard, too fast, and I know it. He makes me feel like I’m coming undone, like every piece of me is breaking apart and rearranging itself around him. It’s like there’s no bottom to this, just an endless drop where every thought is about him and every impulse pulls me closer to him.
And after last night?
Fuck.
My grip tightens on the charcoal as my thoughts spiral. What if he thinks I’m clingy? What if last night was too much, me pulling him into my mess and needing him like that? Roman’s not the kind of guy who wants someone hanging off him. He’s strong, independent, and stubborn as hell.
And me? I’m a fucking disaster.
I lean back on the bench, blowing out a slow breath and trying to shake off the thoughts. But then I see him, and all the noise in my head quiets.
He’s across the quad, sitting on the grass with Thorn, Killian, and Damien. His head is tipped back, laughing at something one of them said, and the sight of him so relaxed and happy hits me square in the chest.
My fingers itch to sketch him like this, to capture the way the sunlight catches on his hair, the way his smile lights up his whole face.
But then Thorn tackles him, and the moment shatters.
They hit the ground in a tangle of limbs, Roman’s laughter turning into a mock yell of outrage as he tries to wrestle Thorn off him. Killian’s grinning like an idiot, and of course, Damien can’t resist jumping in, grabbing Roman’s arm and pinning him down while Thorn holds his legs.
Jealousy flares hot in my chest, and my grip on the charcoal tightens until it snaps in half.
Fucking Damien.
The image of him on his knees in front of Roman flashes in my mind, and I grit my teeth, trying to shove it down. That was before—before Roman and me, before anything between us. It doesn’t matter.
But it does.
Roman’s laughing again, thrashing under Thorn and Damien’s combined weight as Killian cheers them on from the sidelines. He looks so damn happy, his face flushed and his eyes bright, and I can’t help but wonder—does he look like that with me?
Do I make him laugh like that? Do I make him feel light, like nothing else matters? Or am I just some kind of dark cloud hanging over him, dragging him down?
The thought twists in my gut, and I glance back down at the sketch of him, the charcoal lines now smudged and messy. I close the sketchbook with a snap, stuffing it into my bag as I stand.
I can’t sit here and watch this anymore. Not without driving myself crazy. But as I turn to leave, I glance back one last time, and Roman’s eyes meet mine.
For a split second, the noise in my head stops.
He’s still smiling, his chest heaving from the wrestling match, and when our eyes lock, something shifts in his expression. He says something to Thorn, who immediately lets go, and then he’s standing, brushing grass off his pants as he starts walking toward me.
I freeze, my heart pounding as I watch him cross the quad, his friends calling after him but not stopping him. When he reaches me, he stops just close enough that I can see the faint mark on his neck where I bit him.
“Hey,” he says, his voice a little breathless.
“Hey,” I reply, my voice quieter than I intended.
He studies me for a moment, his eyes searching mine. “You okay?”
I nod, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”
“About what?”
I hesitate, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. “You. Us. Whether this is too much for you.”
Roman’s brow furrows, and then he reaches out, his hand curling around the back of my neck as he pulls me closer.
“Damon,” he says, his voice low and just for me. “It’s not too much. You’re not too much.”
The tension in my chest eases and I let out a breath that was suffocating me. “Even though I feel like a jealous piece of shit because Damien is over there tackling you?” I ask, and his lips twitch into a smirk.
His thumb brushes against the back of my neck, grounding me in a way I didn’t know I needed. “You know Damien doesn’t mean anything to me, right?”
I snort, glancing over his shoulder toward the quad where Damien is now hanging off Killian, laughing at something. “Yeah, I know. Doesn’t change the fact that I wanted to rip him off you.”
Roman tilts his head, studying me. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, glancing away, suddenly uncomfortable with how exposed I feel. “I know it’s stupid. I know you’re not interested in him, but seeing him all over you like that—fuck, it pissed me off.”
There’s a pause, and then Roman’s hand tightens on the back of my neck, pulling me closer again. “You know what I see when I look at Damien?”
My heart is thundering so loud that I know he can hear it. “What?”
“A friend. A fucking dumbass half the time, but still just a friend.”
I scoff, trying to brush it off, but Roman’s grip doesn’t loosen. “And you know what I see when I look at you?” he continues, his eyes locking onto mine.
My throat tightens, and I shake my head, unsure if I even want the answer.
Roman leans in, his forehead almost touching mine. “Someone who doesn’t need to feel like they’re competing with anyone else. Someone who already has all my attention. You’re the one I’m kissing in front of everyone. You’re the one I’m spending most of my nights with.”
And just like that, the noise stops.
I press my forehead against his, closing my eyes as I let the moment settle around us. Roman’s hand stays on the back of my neck, his thumb brushing lightly against my skin. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
“For what?” he asks, his voice curious.
“For being too much,” I admit, pulling back just enough to look at him. “For being so fucking jealous. For acting like an idiot. For—”
“Don’t,” he cuts in, shaking his head as his grip on my neck tightens just a fraction. “Don’t apologize.”
“But—”
“No,” he says firmly. “You’re allowed to feel the way you feel, Damon. You don’t have to apologize for that. Just remember, you’re the one I wanna be with, and that includes being there for you when you’re at your worst. It works both ways, too.”
His words hit me harder than I think even he suspects, and I blink, trying to process them. No one’s ever said that to me before. Not like this.
Roman tilts his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Besides, it’s kinda hot when you’re jealous.”
I snort again, the tension in my chest easing slightly. “You’re an asshole.”
“Yeah, but you like it,” he shoots back, his grin widening.
I roll my eyes, but he doesn’t say anything else, just leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead. It’s soft and lingering, and it feels like he’s trying to tell me everything he can’t put into words.
When he pulls back, he glances over his shoulder toward the quad, where his friends are still messing around. “You wanna sit with us?”
I hesitate, glancing at the group. They’re loud and chaotic, the complete opposite of what I feel like I can handle right now.
“Nah,” I say finally, shaking my head. “I’m good here.”
Roman studies me for a moment, then nods. “Alright. But if you change your mind…”
“I’ll let you know,” I promise, and he smiles, leaning in to steal one last kiss before heading back to his friends.
I watch him go, my chest tightening again—but this time, it’s not from fear or doubt. It’s something else entirely. Something that feels a lot like hope.
As Roman reaches his friends, I sit back down on the bench and pull out my sketchpad again. My fingers move on autopilot, the charcoal smudging and blending as I work, and before long, his face starts to take shape on the page again.
This time, though, he’s smiling.