Damien
I walk into the room and immediately know something's wrong.
It's not the mess. Not the hoodie Luca left on the floor. Not the textbooks I haven't touched.
It's her.
Vivienne.
Wearing a grin that's too bright, legs crossed on my bed like it's her throne, hair spilling over my pillow like a wildfire. And Luca—shirtless Luca—standing way too close, laughing like he belongs.
My jaw tightens.
"I didn't know your best friend was a goddess," Luca says, and I nearly throw something.
I don't, obviously.
I walk in, quiet and slow, like I don't care. Like this doesn't matter.
"Get off," I say. My voice is flat. Measured. Controlled.
She smirks. "No."
Vivienne always plays. She doesn't realize when she's playing with fire.
I step closer. "Vivienne."
She rolls onto her stomach, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Damien."
Luca's watching us like he just stumbled into a soap opera. I don't look at him. If I do, I'll stop pretending this doesn't bother me.
Because it does.
Her on my bed. Her laughing at his joke. Her wearing that stupid soft hoodie that probably belongs to him.
I glance at her again. She's got this light in her eyes—reckless, teasing, warm. The kind she saves for me.
Or used to.
"She's funny," Luca says. "Didn't expect that."
I hum. "She talks a lot."
"I do," Vivienne agrees. "And he secretly loves it."
Luca chuckles. "You two dating?"
Silence.
My fingers curl into fists behind my back. My face doesn't move.
"No," she says, like the word doesn't taste wrong. "He's just—Damien."
That part stings more than I expect.
I finally turn to Luca. My voice is calm. "You got something to say, Luca?"
He shrugs. "Just asking."
I don't blink. "Don't."
He stiffens. Just a little. Just enough.
Vivienne swings her legs off the bed. "Well, this got awkward."
She stands up and brushes imaginary lint off her skirt. I look away. I shouldn't be noticing how she looks. How she smells like vanilla and something expensive.
"I'm going to my dorm," she announces.
Luca opens his mouth to offer to walk her.
I cut in first. "I'll take her."
She raises an eyebrow. "Oh? Since when do you—"
"I'll take you," I repeat.
She narrows her eyes at me like she's trying to figure something out.
Good luck. I haven't even figured it out myself.
She shrugs. "Fine."
She follows me out.
And I leave the door wide open behind us—wide enough for Luca to see exactly who she leaves with.
---
We don't talk for the first few minutes.
She walks beside me like it's the most natural thing in the world. Shoulders brushing. Bag swinging between us. Her hair flowing like a goddamn cape in the wind. She smells like she always does—candy and chaos. Too much sugar. Too much sunshine.
Too much her.
And for some reason, that guy—Luca—thinks he can handle that?
I scoff under my breath.
Vivienne glances up. "What?"
"Nothing."
She stops walking.
I don't.
But she grabs my sleeve and tugs me back like I'm some kid trying to escape daycare. "Damien. Don't 'nothing' me."
I face her.
Big mistake.
Her eyes are too bright, too wide. Her cheeks are pink from the cold. Or the walk. Or from laughing at someone else's joke.
I grind my teeth.
"Did he say something to you?" she asks. "Luca?"
"No."
"Are you mad?"
"No."
"Liar," she sings, like it's a game she's already won. She pokes my chest with one perfectly manicured nail. "You're weirdly quiet. Which means you're weirdly mad."
"I'm always quiet."
"Not with me."
That… annoys me.
Because she's right.
I sigh. "He was flirting with you."
Vivienne blinks.
Then laughs. "Ohhh. I see."
I frown. "What?"
"You're being overprotective again."
"I'm not—"
She leans forward. Stretches up on tiptoe. Pokes my forehead like I'm a vending machine that swallowed her money. "You are. You do this. You get all cold and weird and starey when someone flirts with me."
I step back. Not too far. Just enough to breathe.
"I don't care who flirts with you."
"You don't?"
"No."
She squints at me. "You sure?"
I nod once. Sharp. Final.
She smiles again. Not like she believes me. Like she's waiting.
Whatever for, I don't want to know.
"I'm gonna go," she says after a second. "Got an essay to pretend to start."
I nod again.
She waves and skips off toward her dorm, hair bouncing with every step. Not a single doubt in her posture. She knows I watched her leave. She knows I'm still standing here.
I tell myself it doesn't matter.
That I only stepped in because Luca's an idiot.
Because Vivienne is a lot. Too much. And she's always getting into things she can't handle.
That's all it is.
I'm not jealous.
Because that would mean I want her.
And I don't.
Right?