Damian had spent the entire morning trying to act normal. He wasn't sure if he was succeeding.
After leaving Alex's apartment, he had gone back to his dorm, showered, and stared at himself in the mirror for way too long. He had expected to feel different—maybe guilty, maybe regretful—but instead, all he felt was a mess of emotions he couldn't untangle.
What the hell were they now?
Best friends? Yeah. That hadn't changed. But it had, hadn't it?
The way Alex had looked at him that morning, with no regret, no awkwardness—just quiet understanding—it made Damian's chest tighten in a way he didn't like. It should have made things easier. But instead, it made it harder.
He had spent the morning going through the motions, trying to keep his thoughts in check, but it wasn't working. Every time he let his guard down for even a second, flashes of last night came back. The warmth of Alex's touch. The way he had whispered his name. The way their bodies had fit together like it was something they had done a hundred times before.
Damian shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts. He had to focus. He had class soon, and the last thing he needed was to be distracted.
But, of course, life didn't give him that time.
"Yo, Damian!"
The voice cut through his thoughts, and he recognized it instantly. Alex.
Damian's stomach twisted, and he forced himself to look up.
Alex was jogging toward him across the courtyard, looking perfectly at ease, like last night hadn't changed a damn thing. He was wearing that same cocky grin, the one that could either mean I did something dumb or I'm about to do something dumb.
Damian braced himself. "Hey."
Alex stopped in front of him, hands in his pockets, his eyes scanning Damian's face like he was searching for something. "You good?"
That question again. Like Alex knew he was on edge.
"Yeah," Damian lied, his voice coming out steadier than he expected.
Alex's smile twitched, like he saw right through him but decided not to push. Instead, he just rocked back on his heels and tilted his head. "Good. Because we're getting drinks tonight."
Damian blinked. "What?"
"You, me, bar. No excuses." Alex nudged his shoulder playfully. "I figured you'd be overthinking shit by now, so I'm intervening."
Damian exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "And what makes you think I want an intervention?"
Alex smirked. "Because I know you."
Damian hated that he was right.
But drinking with Alex again? After what happened last night? That was asking for trouble.
Alex must have noticed his hesitation because his expression softened—just slightly. "Look, we don't have to talk about it. I just don't want you to shut me out, okay?"
Damian looked away, his jaw tightening. That was the problem with Alex. He saw him. He knew when Damian was pulling away, when he was overthinking, when he was getting stuck in his own head.
And the worst part? Alex didn't let him.
After a long pause, Damian sighed. "Fine. One drink."
Alex grinned. "Three drinks."
"Two."
"Deal." Alex clapped him on the back before turning to walk away. "I'll text you later."
Damian watched him go, stomach twisting.
This was dangerous.
They were walking a fine line, and sooner or later, one of them was going to push too far.
The only question was—who?
And what the hell would happen when they did?