Damien's POV
I was halfway through the dullest medical lecture in existence when the door creaked open mid-slide. Everyone turned.
And there she was.
Vivienne Crestwood.
Strutting into the lecture hall like she owned the entire university.
Her hip-length hair swung behind her like a weapon. Her lips were set in a determined pout. She wore my hoodie — again — and in her hand?
Coffee. And snacks.
Not for herself.
For me.
She didn't even hesitate. Walked straight across the room, right past wide eyes and poorly hidden whispers, and sat next to me like she'd reserved the spot with her soul.
A paper bag of croissants dropped onto my desk. Coffee followed. Then her hand on my thigh like she was daring the universe to challenge her right to be here.
"Hi," she said brightly, voice like sunshine dipped in sugar. "Miss me?"
My lips twitched.
She was mad. She was mad and pretending she wasn't. And this was her version of silent rage.
Bringing me food and sitting so close I could smell her shampoo.
"Croissants?" I asked, sipping the coffee without a word of thanks. I knew she knew I was thankful.
"Mm-hm." She leaned her head against my arm. "Got them from that pretentious bakery you pretend not to like."
"Didn't know I was pretending."
"You so were. You ate three last time."
A smile threatened the corner of my mouth. "You counted?"
"Of course I counted. I count everything."
I turned to look at her, just as she tilted her face up at me. Her cheeks were a little pink. Her lipgloss had a tiny shimmer to it. Her eyes said I'm mad and I will not be normal about it but also please love me anyway.
God, she was exhausting.
God, she was beautiful.
And I missed her yesterday.
Her noise. Her warmth. The way she talked like the world would end if she didn't say all her thoughts right now.
Yesterday, when she was cold and quiet and distant — something had felt wrong in the universe. Like I couldn't breathe right.
Now she was back. Annoyed. Dramatic. Clingy. Mine. (Not mine. Not yet.)
I reached for one of the croissants without saying anything and handed her half.
She blinked. Took it. Nibbled with a tiny satisfied sigh.
We sat like that while the professor kept droning on about diagnostics and ethical procedures. Her head on my arm. Her fingers twitching slightly on my leg like she needed to hold something but wouldn't ask.
"Don't fall asleep again," I muttered.
She smirked. "No promises."
And just like that — I felt like I could finally breathe again.
---
I didn't even make it halfway across campus before Luca caught me by the sleeve and yanked me behind one of the library pillars.
He looked like he'd just watched someone drop a wedding proposal in the middle of class.
"Did you just let her call herself your girlfriend?"
I blinked. "…Hello to you too."
"Don't deflect, Romeo. Is Vivienne Crestwood your girlfriend now? Because Twitter thinks she is."
Oh God.
I rubbed a hand over my face. "It just… slipped out. I didn't say it. She did."
Luca's jaw dropped. "She did, and you didn't correct her?"
I gave him a look. "What am I supposed to say? 'No, actually, we're just childhood friends who sleep in each other's beds and feed each other breakfast like a married couple'? Sounds way less suspicious, yeah?"
He stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "Mate."
"What?"
"You've been emotionally married since day one."
"I am not—"
"You let her drool on your sleeve and smiled about it."
"She was asleep—"
"You carry her bag, her snacks, her coffee—"
"She gets cranky when she's hungry!"
Luca raised an eyebrow. "She called herself your girlfriend in public."
I fell silent.
"And you didn't hate it."
That shut me up for real.
I didn't hate it.
I hadn't even flinched. No panic. No awkward silence. If anything…
I kind of liked the way it sounded.
"She was jealous," I muttered finally. "Over Emery."
Luca smirked. "Good. Means she cares."
"She always cares," I shot back. "That's the problem."
He leaned against the wall, smug. "You care too."
"Yeah, well, I'm trying not to."
"Why?"
I didn't answer.
Not because I didn't have one — but because the moment Vivienne had looked up at me and said "I'm his girlfriend" like it was the most obvious thing in the world…
A part of me believed her.
And that was the problem.